"A good deal of it," she answered. "Yes, he's been making quite a bit of trouble." "I'm sorry for that, really," said Vance. "But we are not responsible for him." "I suppose you ain't," said Kate Pollard slowly. "But I'd like to talk to the lady of the house." "Very sorry," and again he looked in his sharp way--like a fox, she thought--and then glanced away as though there were no interest in her or her topic. "Very sorry, but my sister is in--er--critically declining health. I'm afraid she cannot see you." This repulse made Kate thoughtful. She was not used to such bluff talk from men, however smooth or rough the exterior might be. And under the quiet of Vance she sensed an opposition like a stone wall. "I guess you ain't a friend of Terry's?" "I'd hardly like to put it strongly one way or the other. I know the boy, if that's what you mean." "It ain't." She considered him again. And again she was secretly pleased to see him stir under the cool probe of her eyes. "How long did you live with Terry?" "He was with us twenty-four years." He turned and explained casually to Waters. "He was taken in as a foundling, you know. Quite against my advice. And then, at the end of the twenty-four years, the bad blood of his father came out, and he showed himself in his true colors. Fearful waste of time to us all--of course, we had to turn him out." "Of course," nodded Waters sympathetically, and he looked wistfully down at his blueprint. "Twenty-four years you lived with Terry," said the girl softly, "and you don't like him, I see." Instantly and forever he was damned in her eyes. Anyone who could live twenty-four years with Terry Hollis and not discover his fineness was beneath contempt. "I'll tell you," she said. "I've _got_ to see Miss Elizabeth Cornish." "H'm!" said Vance. "I'm afraid not. But--just what have you to tell her?" The girl smiled. "If I could tell you that, I wouldn't have to see her." He rubbed his chin with his knuckles, staring at the floor of the veranda, and now and then raising quick glances at her. Plainly he was suspicious. Plainly, also, he was tempted in some manner. "Something he's done, eh? Some yarn about Terry?" It was quite plain that this man actually wanted her to have something unpleasant to say about Terry. Instantly she suited herself to his mood; for he was the door through which she must pass to see Elizabeth Cornish. "Bad?" she said, hardening her expression as much as possible. "Well, bad enough. A killing to begin with." There was a gleam in his eyes--a gleam of positive joy, she was sure, though he banished it at once and shook his head in deprecation. "Well, well! As bad as that? I suppose you may see my sister. For a moment. Just a moment. She is not well. I wish I could understand your purpose!"