irrelevant to the present situation. Indeed, it was of a most personal and private nature." He smiled confidingly. "I will admit, however, that I went to Alvin's house the night he was shot, intending to speak to him about the check; but, as you already know, I found the house dark and spent the night in a Turkish bath."
"Pardon me, Mr. Pfyfe,"—it was Vance who spoke—"but did Mr. Benson take your note without security?"
"Of course!" Pfyfe's tone was a rebuke. "Alvin and I, as I have explained, were the closest friends."
"But even a friend, don't y' know," Vance submitted, "might ask for security on such a large amount. How did Benson know that you'd be able to repay him?"
"I can only say that he did know," the other answered, with an air of patient deliberation.
Vance continued to be doubtful.
"Perhaps it was because of the confession you had given him."
Pfyfe rewarded him with a look of beaming approval.
"You grasp the situation perfectly," he said.
Vance withdrew from the conversation, and though Markham questioned Pfyfe for nearly half an hour, nothing further transpired. Pfyfe clung to his story in every detail, and politely refused to go deeper into his quarrel with Benson, insisting that it had no bearing on the case. At last he was permitted to go.
"Not very helpful," Markham observed. "I'm
