rate, I can't say that they exactly blinded me by their brilliance."
"And you received no solace from his words?"
"Only those in which he bade me a fond farewell. The parting didn't exactly break my heart. . . . What the old boy said about Leacock, however, might be called a confirmatory opinion. It verified—if verification had been necessary—the case against the Captain."
Vance smiled cynically.
"Oh, to be sure. And what he said about Miss St. Clair would have verified the case against her, too—last Saturday.—Also, what he said about Pfyfe would have verified the case against that Beau Sabreur, if you had happened to suspect him—eh, what?"
Vance had scarcely finished speaking when Swacker came in to say that Emery from the Homicide Bureau had been sent over by Heath, and wished, if possible, to see the District Attorney.
When the man entered I recognized him at once as the detective who had found the cigarette butts in Benson's grate.
With a quick glance at Vance and me, he went directly to Markham.
"We've found the grey Cadillac, sir; and Sergeant Heath thought you might want to know about it right away. It's in a small, one-man garage on Seventy-fourth Street near Amsterdam Avenue, and has been there three days. One of the men from the Sixty-eighth Street station located it and 'phoned in to Headquarters; and I hopped up town at once. It's the right car—fishing-tackle and all, except for
