XVIII - SOLUTION AT LAST––––––––
"I AM here," he muttered, "I have killed her, or, at least, she is dying—lying there on the floor, dying—I have to get out before the servants break in—I can't get out, there's no way I can get out. Mr. Stone, he didn't get out, because——"
"Because he wasn't in!" interrupted Fleming Stone, excitedly. "Oh, Fibs, do you see it that way too?"
"Sure I do! Fancy anybody untyin' a lot o' ropes, and freein' the lady and makin' a getaway, ropes and all, in two or three minutes, and besides, he couldn't get out!"
Fibsy stated this as triumphantly as if it were a new proposition. "The upset table," he went on, "the smashed lamp, with its long, green cord, the poor lady's dress open at the throat——"
"Yes," Stone nodded, eagerly, "yes,—and I daresay she had lace f
