"It came in that letter. That letter I wanted to open, and which you persuaded me not to!" She mustered all her damning facts one after another. "And it was postmarked from Craterville. Vance, you have been in Craterville lately!" He seemed to consider. "Could I have told anyone? Could I, possibly? No, Elizabeth, I'll give you my word of honor that I've never spoken a syllable about that subject to anyone!" "Ah, but what have you written?" "I've never put pen to paper. But--how did it happen?" He had control of himself now. His voice was steadier. He could feel her recede from her aggressiveness. "It was dated after you left Craterville, of course. And--I can't stand imagining that you could be so low. Only, who else would have a motive?" "But how was it done?" "They sent him an article about his father and a picture of Black Jack that happens to look as much like Terry as two peas." "Then I have it! If the picture looks like Terry, someone took it for granted that he'd be interested in the similarity. That's why it was sent. Unless they told him that he was really Black Jack's son. Did the person who sent the letter do that?" "There was no letter. Only a magazine clipping and the photograph of the painting." They were both silent. Plainly she had dismissed all idea of her brother's guilt. "But what are we going to do, Elizabeth? And how has he taken it?" "Like poison, Vance. He--he burned all the Colby pictures. Oh, Vance, twenty-four years of work are thrown away!" "Nonsense! This will all straighten out. I'm glad he's found out. Sooner or later he was pretty sure to. Such things will come to light." "Vance, you'll help me? You'll forgive me for accusing you, and you'll help me to keep Terry in hand for the next few days? You see, he declared that he will not be ashamed of his father." "You can't blame him for that." "God knows I blame no one but myself." "I'll help you with every ounce of strength in my mind and body, my dear." She pressed his hand in silence. "I'm going up to talk with him now," he said. "I'm going to do what I can with him. You go in and talk. And don't let them see that anything is wrong." The door had not been locked again. He entered at the call of Terry and found him leaning over the hearth stirring up the pile of charred paper to make it burn more freely. A shadow crossed the face of Terry as he saw his visitor, but he banished it at once and rose to greet him. In his heart Vance was a little moved. He went straight to the younger man and took his hand. "Elizabeth has told me," he said gently, and he looked with a moist eye into the face of the man who, if his plans worked out, would be either murderer or murdered before the close of the next day. "I am very sorry, Terence." "I thought you came to congratulate me," said Terry, withdrawing his hand. "Congratulate you?" echoed Vance, with unaffected astonishment.