Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I waited for comment, said quietly: 

“Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that Philip Crawford was concealing something, but I didn’t think, and don’t think now, that he has any guilty secret of his own.  I rather fancied he might know something that, if told, would be detrimental to Miss Lloyd’s cause.”

“It may be so,” I returned, “but I can’t see how that would make him conceal the fact of his having been on that late train Tuesday night.  Why, I discussed with him the possibility of Hall’s coming out on it, and it would have been only natural to say he was on it, and didn’t see Hall.”

“Unless he did see him,” remarked the district attorney.

“Yes; there’s that possibility.  He may be shielding Hall for Miss Lloyd’s sake—­and—­”

“Let’s go to see him,” suggested Mr. Goodrich.  “I believe in the immediate following up of any idea we may have.”

It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely to find Mr. Crawford at home, so we started off at once, and on reaching his house we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the library, but that he would see us.  So to the library we went, and found Mr. Crawford and his lawyer hard at work on the papers of the Joseph Crawford estate.

Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look of apprehension on Philip Crawford’s face, as we entered, but he greeted us in his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated.

“To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford,” said the district attorney, “Mr. Burroughs and I are still searching for new light on the tragedy of your brother’s death.  And now Mr. Burroughs wants to put a few questions to you, which may help him in his quest.”

Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and it seemed to me that he straightened himself, as for an expected blow.

“Yes, Mr. Burroughs,” he said courteously.  “What is it you want to ask?”

So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to be equally direct.

“Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last Tuesday night?” I began.

“I did,” he replied, in even tones.

“While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag in the seat when she got out?”

“I did.”

“Did you pick up that bag and take it away with you?”

“I did.”

“Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in your brother’s office, I think you owe a more detailed explanation.”

To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard these questions and answers, were astounded, is putting it too mildly.  They were almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay.

To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the man they incriminated was startling indeed.