teacher's idea of life, and what
part of it should be lived; and Burton never hit it with her properly.
She brought up her children with the same views as her own; their father
was always pointed out as the kind of person they must avoid. And with
that sort of thing sounded in their ears continually, of course their
attitudes, as they became older, were to be expected."

"Well, from all accounts," said Scanlon, "they have a pretty good
argument on their side--neglect and all that. Burton wasn't your idea of
a family man, was he?"

"Well, no, not exactly," confessed Dennison. "But then, I don't put
myself up as a judge of such things. However, I've got a notion it would
be hard to live with a silent, religious wife, a son you knew hated you,
and a daughter who had--er--well--spells."

Ashton-Kirk bent his head forward a trifle and a look of interest
glinted in his keen eyes.

"Spells?" asked he. "What do you mean?"

Dennison smiled broadly.

"That's an expression I got from an old colored man who used to work for
my father years ago. Queer how such things stick to one, isn't it? But I
don't just know how to describe what Burton told me about his daughter
in any other way. She wasn't an epileptic. That's a thing one goes down
under; and _her_ case was just the reverse. She was, as a rule, propped
up in a chair, as weak as a kitten; but when these things took her, she
grew immensely strong and sort of wild."

"I see," said Ashton-Kirk. And Scanlon, as he watched, saw him, so to
speak, store the fact carefully away in his memory. "Can you remember
anything else Burton talked about that night?"

"Why, yes, to be sure." Dennison looked at the still figure of the
investigator through the light rifts of smoke. "You seem to have a
fair-sized interest in the matter," he added.

Ashton-Kirk nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "There is more to it than the police have shown; and
I'm interested in the son's predicament."

"Nasty mess for him," agreed Dennison, pursing up his thick lips.
"Terrible kick up, that's a fact. Glad I'm not in it." He smoked for a
moment or two and then proceeded. "What was on Tom's mind most of all
that night was the condition of his pocketbook. According to his
statement it was pretty flat. He'd come into Danforth's with about fifty
dollars--all he had--hoping for a little luck at the wheel; but even
that slipped away from him."

"Did he have anything in mind, do you know, that would get him out o