give myself.
You told me I would help her to get her rights; if you have deceived me
----"

"Oh, I haven't deceived you," broke in Q, in his short, sharp way. "Ask
that gentleman there if we are not all interested in Mrs. Clavering
getting her due."

He had designated me; but I was in no mood to reply. I longed to
have the man dismissed, that I might inquire the reason of the great
complacency which I now saw overspreading Mr. Gryce's frame, to his very
finger-ends.

"Mr. Cook needn't be concerned," remarked Mr. Gryce. "If he will take
a glass of warm drink to fortify him for his walk, I think he may go to
the lodgings Mr. Morris has provided for him without fear. Give the gent
a glass, and let him mix for himself."

But it was full ten minutes before we were delivered of the man and his
vain regrets. Mary's image had called up every latent feeling in his
heart, and I could but wonder over a loveliness capable of swaying the
low as well as the high. But at last he yielded to the seductions of the
now wily _Q,_ and departed.

Left alone with Mr. Gryce, I must have allowed some of the confused
emotions which filled my breast to become apparent on my countenance;
for after a few minutes of ominous silence, he exclaimed very grimly,
and yet with a latent touch of that complacency I had before noticed:

"This discovery rather upsets you, doesn't it? Well, it don't me,"
shutting his mouth like a trap. "I expected it."

"Your conclusions must differ very materially from mine," I returned;
"or you would see that this discovery alters the complexion of the whole
affair."

"It does not alter the truth."

"What is the truth?"

Mr. Gryce's very legs grew thoughtful; his voice sank to its deepest
tone. "Do you very much want to know?"

"Want to know the truth? What else are we after?"

"Then," said he, "to my notion, the complexion of things has altered,
but very much for the better. As long as Eleanore was believed to be
the wife, her action in this matter was accounted for; but the tragedy
itself was not. Why should Eleanore or Eleanore's husband wish the death
of a man whose bounty they believed would end with his life? But with
Mary, the heiress, proved the wife!--I tell you, Mr. Raymond, it all
hangs together now. You must never, in reckoning up an affair of murder
like this, forget who it is that most profits by the deceased man's
death."

"But Eleanore's silence? her concealment of certain proofs and evidenc