Fleming Stone went alone to his interview with Winston Barnard. He found the young man willing to talk, but hopelessly dejected.
"There's no use, Mr. Stone," he said, after some roundabout conversation, "I'll be railroaded through. I didn't kill my aunt, but the circumstantial evidence is so desperately strong against me that nobody will believe me innocent. They can't prove it, because they can't find out how I got in, or rather out, but as there's nobody else to suspect, they'll stick to me."
"I mean when you were there in the morning!"
Winston Bannard turned white and bestowed on his interlocutor a glance of utter despair.
"For Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed, "you've been in Berrien less than two days, and you've got that, have you?"
"I have, Mr. Bannard, and before we go further, let me say that I am your friend, and that I do not think you are guilty of murder or of theft."
"Thank you, Mr. Stone," and Bannard interrupted him to grasp his hand. "That's the first word of cheer I've had! My lawyer is a half-hearted champion, because he believes in his soul that I did it!"
"I have not! I couldn't! Every bit of it would only drag me deeper into the mire of inexplicable mystery."
"Gladly, if you'll promise to believe me."
"I can't promise that, blindly, but I'll tell you that I think I Shall be able to recognize the truth as you tell it. Did you write the letter signed William Ashton?"
"Now, hold on, before we go further, Mr. Stone, do satisfy my curiosity. Is that pin, that foolish, common little pin of any value?"
"I think so, Mr. Bannard. I can't tell until I see it----"
"But man, why _see_ it? It's just like any common pin! I examined it myself, and it isn't bent or twisted, or different in any way from millions of other pins."
"Quite evidently then, you've not tried to get possession of it. Your scorn of it is sincere, I'm certain."
"You may be! I've no interest in that pin, for I know it was only a fool joke of Aunt Ursula's to tease poor little Iris."
"Her joking habit was most annoying, was it not?"
"All of that, and then some! She was a terror! Why, I simply couldn't keep on living with her. She made my life a burden. And she did the same by Iris. What that girl has suffered! But the last straw was the worst. Why, for years and years Aunt Ursula told of the valuable diamond pin she had bequeathed to Iris; at least, we thought she said diamond pin, but she said dime an' pin, I suppose."