. "And it's
a perfectly beautiful solitaire, too."

I caught Fred's eye on me, and the very speed with which he shifted his
gaze made me uncomfortable. I made my escape as soon as I could, on the
plea of going out to Bellwood, and in the hall up-stairs I met Margery.

"I saw Bella to-day," she said. "Mr. Knox, will you tell me why you
stayed up last night? What happened in the house?"

"I--thought I heard some one in the library," I stammered, "but I found
no one."

"Is that all the truth or only part of it?" she asked. "Why do men
always evade issues with a woman?" Luckily, woman-like, she did not wait
for a reply. She closed the nursery door and stood with her hand on the
knob, looking down.

"I wonder what you believe about all this," she said. "Do you think my
father--killed himself? You were there; you know. If some one would only
tell me everything!"

It seemed to me it was her right to know. The boys were romping noisily
in the nursery. Down-stairs Fred and Edith were having their Sunday
afternoon discussion of what in the world had become of the money from
Fred's latest book. Margery and I sat down on the stairs, and, as well
as I could remember the details, I told her what had happened at the
White Cat. She heard me through quietly.

"And so the police have given up the case!" she said despairingly. "And
if they had not, Harry would have been arrested. Is there nothing I can
do? Do I have to sit back with my hands folded?"

"The police have not exactly given up the case," I told her, "but there
is such a thing, of course, as stirring up a lot of dust and then
running to cover like blazes before it settles. By the time the public
has wiped it out of its eyes and sneezed it out of its nose and coughed
it out of its larynx, the dust has settled in a heavy layer, clues are
obliterated, and the public lifts its skirts and chooses another
direction. The 'no thoroughfare' sign is up."

She sat there for fifteen minutes, interrupted by occasional noisy
excursions from the nursery, which resulted in her acquiring by degrees
a lapful of broken wheels, three-legged horses and a live water beetle
which the boys had found under the kitchen sink and imprisoned in a
glass topped box, where, to its bewilderment, they were assiduously
offering it dead and mangled flies. But our last five minutes were
undisturbed, and the girl brought out with an effort the request she had
tried to make all day.

"Whoever killed my