Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this astute man the state of my own affections, for he gave me a quizzical glance, and said, “O-ho! sits the wind in that quarter?”

“Yes,” I said, determined to be frank with him.  “It does.  I want you, to free Gregory Hall, if he’s innocent.  Then if, for any reason, Miss Lloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly try to win her affections.  As I came to this determination when she was supposed to be penniless, I can scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting myself.”

“Indeed, you can’t, old chap.  You’re not that sort.  Well, let’s go to see your district attorney and his precious prisoner, and see what’s to be done.”

We went to the district attorney’s office, and, later, accompanied by him and by Mr. Randolph, we visited Gregory Hall.

As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he always showed, and when Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall greeted him coldly, with absolutely no show of interest in the man or his work.

Fleming Stone’s own kindly face took on a slight expression of hauteur, as he noticed his reception, but he said, pleasantly enough

“I am here in an effort to aid in establishing your innocence, Mr. Hall.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Hall listlessly.

I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was merely a foolish habit of Hall’s, or whether, as I had heretofore guessed, it was a ruse to gain time.

Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated his remark in clear, even tones.

“Thank you,” said Hall, pleasantly enough.  “I shall be glad to be free from this unjust suspicion.”

“And as a bit of friendly advice,” went on Stone, “I strongly urge that you, reveal to us, confidentially, where you were on Tuesday night.”

Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye.

“That,” he said, “I must still refuse to do.”

Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the window.

“I think,” he said, “the proof of your innocence may depend upon this point.”

Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed Stone with his eyes.

“What did you say, Mr. Stone?” he asked quietly.

The detective returned to his seat.

“I said,” he replied, “that the proof of your innocence might depend on your telling this secret of yours.  But I begin to think now you will be freed from suspicion whether you tell it or not.”

Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a start, and an expression of fear came into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he said

“Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?” went on Fleming Stone in a suave voice.

“Yes; several.  Why?”

“I do not ask to read them.  Merely show me the lot.”

With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. Hall drew four or five letters from his breast pocket and handed them to Fleming Stone.