“The making of the will, and the sudden proposed departure of Frederick for the West, compelled immediate action, yet even then John was kept largely in the dark as to what they proposed doing.  All he knew was that Frederick had made a will disinheriting him; that he left the College Club with this document in his pocket, and intended later to take a night train.”

She paused, turning the letter over in her hands, and the men seemed to draw closer in the intensity of their interest.

“Some of what I say I learned from this letter,” she went on quietly, “and some I merely deduce from the circumstances.  I believe the boy went home half mad, his only thought being to destroy that will.  In this state of mind, and fortified by drink, he stole later into Frederick’s apartments.  I don’t believe the boy actually intended to murder his cousin, but he did intend to stun him with a blow from behind, seize the paper, and escape unseen.  It was a wild, hare-brained project, but he was only a boy, half drunk, worked into frenzy by Celeste La Rue.  He got into the room—­probably through the bath-room window—­unobserved, but after Frederick had departed.  This other man—­Burke—­was then at the table, running through the papers he had taken from the safe, to see if any were of value.  John, convinced the man was his cousin, stole up behind him and struck him down.  He had no idea of the force of the blow delivered, and may even have left the apartment without realising that the blow had been a fatal one.  Afterward there was nothing to do but keep still, and let matters take their own course.”

“And what happened then?”

“Naturally this:  the La Rue woman wormed the truth out of him, and told Enright.  From that moment the boy was entirely in their hands.  While they remained in New York they helped him keep his nerve, but as soon as he was left alone, he went entirely to pieces.  He was no criminal, merely a victim of circumstances.  At last something happened to frighten him into flight.”

The four men straightened up as her voice ceased speaking.  Then Roberts laughed, as though ashamed of the breathless interest he had exhibited.

“I guess she’s got that doped out about right, Colgate,” he said, almost regretfully.  “And it’s clear enough that we are on the wrong trail.  Anyhow this man here isn’t Tom Burke, although he would deceive the very devil.  What is it, landlord?  Am I ready to eat?  Just lead the way, and I’ll show you.”  He glanced about at the others.  “Any of you missed your supper?  If so, we’d be glad to have your company.”

“I’ll accept the invitation,” returned Cavendish.  “I was asleep up-stairs, and failed to hear the bell.  Perhaps you gentlemen can tell me what steps I’d better take in a case like mine.”

The three passed out together, following the guidance of Timmons, and as the sound of their voices subsided into a confused murmur, Westcott glanced into the face beside him.