“It is decidedly unfortunate,” replied Robles; “an unfortunate complication that may, of course, strengthen the suspicion against Willoughby and so render it more difficult for us to help him.” Merle sprang to her feet, and with a hand dashed away her tears. “Suspicion!” she exclaimed. “There can be not one moment’s suspicion.” And she gazed up into Robles’ face in ardent appeal. “Of course not, my dear, among us—among all those who know Dick Willoughby. But there is the harshly judging world to reckon with besides. They may say that this discloses a motive for the crime.” “However, Merle has just told us,” commented Mrs. Darlington, “that only she and Tia Teresa know anything about this unhappy episode in the rose garden. Mr. Willoughby has not been here at all today.” “But I happen to know that he was not far away this afternoon—that he was rounding up some cattle in the near-by canyons. Malice may suggest that he was a witness of Thurston’s insolent behavior.” “Then we should all keep silent on the subject.” “Which might be compromising in the long run, my dear Mrs. Darlington. Altogether it is a difficult situation.” Merle had been hardly listening to this conversation. She had been thinking, and with thinking had regained her composure. Her mind was quickly made up as to the line of prompt action that must be taken. She spoke quite calmly now. “He is in prison. You have not spoken the word, Mr. Robles, but I know the truth all the same. We shall go to him tonight.” “Not tonight, my dear,” replied Robles, with gentle firmness. “But tomorrow morning, certainly, I would suggest that you drive over to Bakersfield. He will appreciate your kindness in paying him this prompt visit, and you can at the same time convey to him my message of absolute belief in his innocence.” “You will not come, too?” “I can do more for him, Merle, by not going to Bakersfield for the present. Do not forget that for reasons of my own I live in seclusion. My name must be mentioned to no one but Mr. Willoughby. Trust me, all three of you, and leave me to work quietly alone and by my own methods. There, I give my promise. The captive will be set free within a short time. My hand on that, and you know that I never break my word.” There was a joyous smile of confidence on his face as he spoke the words. Merle took the extended hand gratefully, trustfully, and pressed it to her lips. Robles went on: “My advice is—try to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, or within a few brief tomorrows, all will be well. Good night.” Tia Teresa followed him from the open door down into the outer hall. “You heard everything,” he said as he paused to speak a final word of parting. “Comfort her, but at the same time guard our secret closer than ever. Not one hair of Willoughby’s head will be touched—make her know that for certain. And everything will come right in a very little time.” “My poor little girl,” he murmured to himself as he strode down the silent tree-shadowed avenue.