Now he interposed. 'I think you've said quite enough, Bernice.' He fumbled for another cigarette.
Muldoon pointed a pudgy finger at him. 'Elwood,' he demanded, 'are you free to marry Miss Atwater?'
'I am now -- I mean -- I --'
'You mean you are since the murder removed an obstacle,' roared Muldoon.
'I -- I -- didn't say that,' stammered Elwood.
'But it's the truth,' snapped the inspector. 'You couldn't marry without the consent of the trustee of your father's estate. Now, isn't that a fact?'
Elwood assumed an air of bravado that comported illy with his personality. 'Yes, it is!' he shouted almost as loud as Muldoon; 'but that doesn't prove anything.'
'It proves that you and Miss Atwater had an incentive -- it establishes a motive -- you would both have profited by the death of this person. Now, you might as well come clean, Elwood -- it will make it easier for all.'
'You have no right to accuse Miss Atwater -- she had nothing to do with it -- neither did I.'
'Perhaps not, but was there any one else in your family who might have profited by this death?'
'I have no relatives now that -- well, since what happened last night. Like my dead mother, I am an only child.'
'Was your father the Elwood of the Elwood Grain Company?'
'Yes.'
'And he was very wealthy before his death, was he not?'
'Why, yes, I suppose he was wealthy,' replied Elwood. 'I was only ten when he died, and so I didn't know much about his affairs.'
'Let's see,' ruminated Muldoon; 'he and his brother were business partners?'
'He never had a brother.'
'And now, Foley,' said Muldoon, 'I'd like to ask you another question.'
'Well, I don't know that I'll answer it,' snapped the secretary, with some acerbity. The nerves of the three men were holding better than those of the two women; yet, all were on the edge.
'Oh, it's not a very pertinent question, perhaps,' said Muldoon, smiling. 'I was just wondering if the murderer and the deceased were well acquainted?'
The secretary laid down a half-finished cigarette, and then said, 'Yes; once they were engaged to be married.'
'Do you know anything about this trust we have been hearing about, Foley?'
'Not much -- it was not my affair.'
'You don't happen to know when it was established?'
'Immediately after my father's death,' said Elwood, 'fifteen years ago.'
'Charles,' said Muldoon, turning to the chauffeur, 'how old are you?'
'I'm forty-eight,' replied the man.
'You look much younger,' commented Muldoon. 'How long have you been employed by Mr. Atwater?'
'Two years.'
'Like your job?'
'Sure! It's a swell job; they treat me great.'
'What were you doing just before you went to work for Mr. Atwater'
The chauffeur scowled. 'I -- well -- you ain't got nothin' on me. What difference does it make what I was doin' two years ago?'
'Perhaps no difference,' replied Muldoon easily. 'I have been trying to place you ever since I came into this room, Charles; and now I have succeeded. That scar on your cheek is as good as a set of fingerprints. You were in the pen two years ago for burglary!'
'Well, what if I was? Growled the chauffeur. 'This murder wasn't committed two years ago.'
'And you were paroled to Mr. Atwater?'
'Yes.'
'And he's been pretty good to you, hasn't he?'
'Sure, fine.'
'There isn't anything you wouldn't do for him, is there?'
'No. I'd do anything for him -- he's been swell to me.'
'You'd even commit murder for him, wouldn't you?'
The man's eyes narrowed and he glared at Muldoon as he exclaimed, 'To hell with you! I never done it.'
'Do you play tennis, Charles? Inquired Muldoon, blandly.
