l of the veranda. "Cupples," he
said quietly, "is there anything about this business that you know and
would rather not tell me?"

Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the
questioner. "What do you mean?" he said.

"I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! shall I tell you a thing that
strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man
suddenly and violently killed; and nobody's heart seems to be broken
about it, to say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about
him as coolly as if he'd never set eyes on him, though I understand
they've been neighbors every summer for some years. Then you talk about
the thing in the coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't
mind my saying that I have heard of women being more cut up about their
husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is there something in
this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer about
Manderson? I traveled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke to
him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. You
see, this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why I
ask."

Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and
looked out over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. "I see no reason,"
he said, "why I shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow.
I need not say that this must not be referred to, however distantly. The
truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think those who were
nearest to him liked him least."

"Why?" the other interjected.

"Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account
to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in
the man a complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing
outwardly repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or
dull--indeed, he could be remarkably interesting. But I received the
impression that there could be no human creature whom he would not
sacrifice in the pursuit of his schemes, in his task of imposing himself
and his will upon the world. Perhaps that was fanciful, but I think not
altogether so. However, the point is that Mabel, I am sorry to say, was
very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my dear boy, though you always
so kindly try to make me feel as if we were contemporaries--I am getting
to be an old man, and a great many people have been good enough to
confide their matrimoni