half a minute, then tears abruptly
filled her eyes, and she lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Thank you, Jerold," she murmured, and a thrill went straight to his
heart. "I am very much worried, and very unhappy--but I haven't done
anything wrong--and nothing like that!--not even a wicked thought like
that! I loved my uncle very dearly."

She broke down and turned away to give vent to an outburst of grief.

"There, there," said Garrison after a moment. "We must do the best we
can. If you will tell me more, my help is likely to be greater."

Dorothy dried her eyes and resumed her courage heroically.

"I haven't asked you to be seated all this time," she said
apologetically. "Please do--and I'll tell you all I can."

Garrison took a chair, while Dorothy sat near him. He thought he had
never seen her in a mood of beauty more completely enthralling than
this one of helplessness and bravery combined.

"We are quite, well--secure from being overheard?" he said.

She went at once and closed the door.

"Alice would never listen, greatly as she is worried," she said. "It
was she who met you at the door--Foster's wife."

Garrison nodded. He was happy only when she came once more to her seat.

"This is your stepbrother's home?" he inquired. "Is he here?"

"This is Alice's property," Dorothy corrected. "But that's way ahead
of the story. You told me my uncle was poisoned by my cigars. How
could that possibly have been? How did you find it out? How was it
done?"

"The box had been opened and two cigars had been so loaded with poison
that when he bit off one, at the end, to light it up, he got the deadly
stuff on his tongue--and was almost instantly stricken."

Despite the dimness of the light in the room Dorothy's face showed very
white.

She asked; "What kind of poison?"

He mentioned the drug.

"Not the kind used by photographers?" she asked in affright.

"Precisely. Foster, then, is a photographer?"

"He used to be, but---- Oh, I don't see how he--it's terrible! It's
terrible!"

She arose and crossed the room in agitation, then presently returned.

"Your suspicions may be wrong," said Garrison, who divined she had
something on her mind. "Why not tell me all about it, and let me
assist, if I can? What sort of a looking man is Foster?"

"Rather small, and nearly always smiling. But he may not have done it!
He may be innocent! If only you could help me now!" she said. "I
don't believe h