had her ticket to
Chicago.

"Did he buy her off?" he asked quickly.

"Oh, no; he was merely wishing that he could, I think."

"But he made no attempt to get in touch with her yesterday? You're
sure?"

"Quite," she said. "But don't you see. Mr. Hastings? Father was so
intense in his hatred of her that Berne thought of him the moment he
found that body--out there. He thought father must have encountered her
on the lawn in some way, or she must have come after him, and he, in a
fit of rage, struck her down."

"Has Webster told you this?"

"No--but it's true; it is!"

"But, if your supposition is to hold good, how did your father happen to
be in possession of that dagger, which evidently was made with malice
aforethought, as the lawyers say?"

"Exactly," she said, her lips quivering, hands gripping spasmodically at
her knees. "He didn't do it! He didn't do it! Berne's idea was a
mistake!"

"Who, then?" he pressed her, realizing now that she was so unstrung she
would give him her thoughts unguarded.

"Why, that man Russell," she said, her voice so low and the words so
slow that he thought her at the limit of her endurance. "But I've said
all this to show you why Berne put his hand over the judge's mouth. I
want to make it very clear that he feared father--think of it, Mr.
Hastings!--had killed her! At first, I thought----"

She bowed her face in both her hands and wept unrestrainedly, without
sobs, the tears streaming between her fingers and down her wrists.

The old man put one hand on her hair, and with the other brought forth
his handkerchief, being bothered by the sudden mistiness of his
spectacles.

"A brave girl," he said, his own voice insecure. "What a woman! I know
what you mean. At first, you feared your father might have been
concerned in the murder. I saw it in your eyes last night. You had the
same thought that young Webster had--rather, that you say he had."

Her weeping ceased as suddenly as it had begun. She looked at him
through tears.

"And I've only injured Berne in your eyes; I think, irreparably! This
morning I thought you heard me when I asked him not to let it be known
that our engagement was broken? Don't you remember? You were on the
porch as we came around the corner."

For the first time since its utterance, he recalled her statement then,
"We'll have to leave it as it was," and Webster's significant rejoinder.
He despised his own stupidity. Had he magnified Webster's desire