There may be extenuating
circumstances, you know."
"I didn't do it," Fremont broke out. "I hadn't been in the room
a minute when Jimmie came in and accused me of the crime. There is
some mystery about it, for no man could get into this building at
night unless he was helped in, or unless he hid during the day, in
which case he would be observed moving about."
Nestor smiled but made no reply.
"There has been no robbery," Fremont continued. "There are negotiable
bonds on the floor by the safe, and Mr. Cameron's watch and chain and
diamonds are still on him."
"Do you know," Nestor said, smiling, "that the points to which you
refer are the strongest ones against you? Tell me all about it, from
the moment you came into the room."
Fremont told the story as it is already known to the reader, Nestor
sitting in silence with a frown of deep thought on his brows. When
the recital was finished he went into the north room and stood over
the unconscious man.
"Fremont! Fremont! He did it! He did it!"
Over and over again the accusing words came from the white lips. Nestor
turned and looked keenly at the despairing boy at his side. Then he
stooped over and examined the wound on the head.
"It is a hard proposition," he finally said. "It appears to me that his
mention of your name is more like an appeal for help than an accusation,
however. Jimmie," he went on, facing the boy, "you heard Fremont coming
up the stairs?"
"Yes; he was whistling.
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