“Here goes, then,” Fibsy made a quick decision, that Hanlon was too keen to stand for any lie.  “I’m engaged on the Embury murder case.”

“I know that’s true—­though it’s hard to believe.”

Fibsy chose to ignore this dig, and went on.  “I’m here because I want to see how you’re mixed up in it.”

“Oh, you do!  Why not ask me?”

“All right, I ask you.  How are you connected with the murder of Sanford Embury?”

“Will anything I say be used against me?” Hanlon’s tone was jocular, but he was staring hard at Fibsy’s face.

“If it’s usable,” was the nonchalant reply.

“Well, use it if you can.  I’m mixed up in the matter, as you put it, because I’m trying to find the murderer on my own account.”

“Why do you want the murderer on your own account?”

“I didn’t agree to answer more than one question.  But I will.  I don’t want the murderer particularly—­but I’m interested in the case.  I’ve the detective instinct myself—­and I thought if I could track down the villain—­I might get a reward—­”

“Is there one offered?”

“Not that I know of—­but I daresay either Mr. Elliott or Mr. Hendricks would willingly pay to have the murderer found.”

“Why those two?  Why not Mrs, Embury?”

“Innocent child!  Those two are deeply, desperately, darkly in love with the—­the widow.”

“Let’s leave her out of this!”

“Ha, ha! a squire of dames, eh? and at your age!  All right —­leave the lady’s name out.  But I’ve confessed my hidden purpose.  Now tell me what brings you to my domicile, on false pretenses, and why do I find you on the point of breaking into my wardrobe?”

“Truth does it!  I wanted to see if I could find a false beard and a white turban.”

“Oh, you did!  And what good would that do you?  You have cleverly discerned that I assumed an innocent disguise, in order to give aid and comfort to a most worthy dame of advanced years.”

“You did but why?”

“Are you Paul Pry?  You’ll drive me crazy with your eternal ‘why?’”

“All right, go crazy, then—­but, why?”

“The same old reason,” and Hanlon spoke seriously.  “I’m trying, as I said, to find the Embury murderer, and I contrived that session with the old lady in hopes of learning something to help me in finding him.”

“And did you?”

“I learned that she is a harmless, but none the less, positively demented woman.  I learned that she deceives herself—­in a way, hypnotizes herself, and she believes she sees and hears things that she does not see and hear.”

“And tastes them? and smells them?”

“There, too, she deceives herself.  Surely, you don’t take in that story of her ’vision’?”

“I believe she believes it.”

“Yes, so do I. Now, look here, McGuire; I’m a good-natured sort, and I’m willing to overlook this raid of yours, if you’ll join forces.  I can help you, but only if you’re frank and honest in whacking up with whatever info you have.  I know something—­you know something—­will you go in cahoots?”