"Miss Sloane suggested that you wanted certain information. In fact, she
asked me to see you."

"My daughter? Oh, yes!" The prone body became semi-upright, leaned on an
elbow. "Yes! What I want to know is, why--why, in the name of all the
jumping angels, everybody seems to think there's a lot of mystery
connected with this brutal, vulgar, dastardly crime! It passes my
comprehension, utterly!--Jarvis, stop clicking your finger-nails
together!" This with a note of exaggerated pleading. "You know I'm a
nervous wreck, a total loss physically, and yet you stand there in the
corner and indulge yourself wickedly, wickedly, in that infernal habit
of yours of clicking your finger-nails! Mute and mutilated Christian
martyrs!"

He fell back among the pillows, breathing heavily, the perfect picture
of exhaustion. Jarvis came near on soundless feet and applied a wet
cloth to his master's temples.

The old man regarded them both with unconcealed amazement.

"You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Hastings, really, I can't be annoyed!"
the wreck, somewhat revived, announced feebly. "All I said to my
daughter, Miss Sloane, is what I say to you now: I see no reason why we
should employ you, or indeed why you should be connected with this
affair. You were my guest, here, at Sloanehurst. Unfortunately, some
ruffian of whom we never heard, whose existence we never
suspected--Jarvis, take off this counterpane; you're boiling me,
parboiling me; my nerves are seething, simmering, stewing! Athletic
devils! Have you no discrimination, Jarvis?--as I was saying, Mr.
Hastings, somebody stabbed somebody else to death on my lawn,
unfortunately marring your visit. But that's all. I can't see that we
need you--thank you, nevertheless."

The dismissal was unequivocal. Hastings got to his feet, his indignation
all the greater through realization that he had been sent for merely to
be flouted. And yet, this man's daughter had come to him literally with
tears in her eyes, had begged him to help her, had said that money was
the smallest of considerations. Moreover, he had accepted her
employment, had made the definite agreement and promise. Apparently,
Sloane was in no condition to act independently, and his daughter had
known it, had hoped that he, Hastings, might soothe his silly mind, do
away with his objections to assistance which she knew he needed.

There was, also, the fact that Lucille believed her father unaccountably
interested, if not implicated