“I was afraid to stay,” she told them. “After what I’d seen I didn’t want to be questioned. I had Jan to think of. I still have Jan to think of,” she added drearily. “Courtney Brooke killed my mother, and I’ve ruined Jan’s life forever and ever.”

Chapter 24

Brooke was interrogated at police headquarters that afternoon. Inspector Fuller found him in his back office, dressing a small boy’s hand.

“All right, Jimmy,” he said. “And don’t fool with knives after this.”

The boy left, and Fuller went in. Young Brooke was putting away his dressings, his face sober.

“What’s this about Mr. Garrison being held, inspector?” he said. “I was just going over to see Jan. She’s taking it badly.”

The inspector did not relax.

“You’ve been holding out on us, doctor,” he said stiffly. “That’s a dangerous thing to do in a murder case.”

Brooke flushed. He still held a roll of bandage in his hand. He put it down on the table before he answered.

“All right. What’s it all about?”

“You were in Mrs. Fairbanks’s room at or about the time she was killed.”

“Why not?” He looked defiant. “She was my patient. I had a right to look at her. She’d had a good bit of excitement that night, and I didn’t go all the way in. I opened the door and listened. She was alive then. I’ll swear to that. I could hear her breathing.”

“Why didn’t you tell about it?” said the inspector inexorably.

Brooke looked unhappy.

“Sheer funk, I suppose. I told Jan, after it all came out, and she didn’t want me to. Not that I’m putting the blame on her,” he added quickly. “I was in a cold sweat myself. In fact, I still am!”

He grinned and pulling out a handkerchief mopped his face.

“I thought I had as many guts as the other fellow,” he said. “But this thing’s got me.”

He looked incredulous, however, when the inspector asked him to go with him to headquarters.

“What for? Are you trying to arrest me?” he asked suspiciously.

“Not necessarily. We’ll want a statement from you.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.”

He went finally, calling to the slovenly girl that he would be back for dinner, and slamming the door furiously behind him as he left the house. He was still indignant when he reached the inspector’s office. A look at the room, however, with the stenographer at his desk and Captain Henderson and the detectives filing in, rather subdued him.

“Third-degree stuff, I suppose,” he said, and lit a cigarette. “All right. I’m a fool and a coward, but I’m no killer. You can put that down.”

“No third degree, doctor. Just some facts. Sit down, please. We may be some time.”

They were some time. Before they were through he was white and exhausted.

“Did Janice Garrison know of the document in the safe?”

“Yes. Why drag her in? She hasn’t done anything.”

“She was fond of her father?”