"Well, Mr. Thorpe said Mr. Blair was ill, and told me to go in and see
him. Now, of course, Mr. Thorpe knew Mr. Blair was dead, but he said he
was ill. Why did he do that?"

"Tell your story," said Crane, scowling at him. "Don't ask fool
questions as you go along!"

"Yes, sir. Well, I went in and I saw Mr. Blair was dead. And I told Mr.
Thorpe so, and he didn't seem surprised, but he was all of a blue funk,
and he said, 'Well,--get a doctor--or whatever is the thing to do.' Just
like that. He didn't show any grief or any sorrow,--only just seemed
scared to death."

"And he didn't show any surprise?" This from Middleton.

"Of course he didn't!" Crane cried; "of course he knew Blair was dead
when he called Hastings. I know Thorpe, and he's a most nervous
temperament. And when he called for help, as of course he had to do, it
was the most natural thing in the world for him to say that Mr. Blair
was ill. Nor would he be apt to show his grief then and there. He was
stunned, and moreover, he's not the man to talk over his sorrow with the
janitor! I say Thorpe acted as any of us would do in the same
circumstances. Now, I for one, object to having him misjudged."

"You're a good champion, Mr. Crane," said Doctor Middleton, "and I don't
blame you for standing up for your friend. But he'll have to speak for
himself,--Mr. Thorpe will,--and the sooner we get hold of him the
better."

"I agree to all that," Crane replied, "all I ask is that he shall not be
condemned unheard."

"That's reasonable enough," granted Middleton, "but we must get hold of
him soon."

"He'll come back here," Mr. Crane assured them. "He hasn't run away, as
you seem to think, but he has a natural aversion to this place, and I
shouldn't be surprised if he stayed away for a few days."

"A few days! Where would he stay?" asked the Examiner.

"Probably at his Club."

"Which Club? I'll call it up and see if he's there now," Weston said,
briskly.

"The Artists' Club. Call it, and they'll tell you something about him,
I'm sure."

Weston called the Club and received word that Thorpe was there.

"Ask him to speak to me," he ordered, and in a moment he was talking to
Thorpe himself.

"Yes, I'll come home right away," Thorpe agreed, when urgently invited
to do so.

"I told you so," said Crane, triumphantly; "that man had no thought of
running away, but he dreads this place just now. He's of a sensitive,
nervous nature, and I hope, Mr. Weston, you'll