At the end of his tether, Eddy was. His lips twitched, his face was distorted with his valiant effort after self-control. And it occurred to Ross that, for all his shrewdness and his worldly air, Eddy was not very old or very wise. “What’s up, old man?” he asked. “Tell me. You’d better get your dinner now.” “Nope!” said Eddy. “I—can’t eat. I—I don’t want to talk.” Ross waited for some time. “Lissen here,” said Eddy, at last. “You—you seemed to like—that kid. You—you’ll look after her, won’t you?” “Yes,” Ross answered. He would have been surprised, and a little incredulous, if any one had called him tactful, yet few people could have handled Eddy better. He knew what the boy wanted; knew that he needed just this cool and steady tone, this incurious patience. “Go and get her,” Eddy pleaded. “She’s down at the barber’s—near the movie theayter. Go and get her.” “All right. I’ll have my dinner first, though. Want me to bring you something?” “Nope!” said Eddy. “Lissen! I guess the cops are after me already.” “You mean they’ve—found him?” “Yep,” said Eddy. “They’ve found him. How did you know?” Ross did not answer the question. “Can’t you get away?” he asked. “Not going to try,” said Eddy. “I—I’m too d-darn tired. I—I _don’t care_!” There was a hysterical rise in his voice, but he mastered it. “Let ’em come!” “What have they got against you?” “They’ve found him—in the pond—where I put him.” “Who’s going to know that?” “Oh, they’ll know, all right!” said Eddy. “They got ways of finding out things. They’ll know, and they’ll think it was me that—All right! Let ’em!” “Then you’re not going to tell?” Eddy looked at him. “D’you think it—wasn’t me?” “Yes,” Ross replied. “I think it wasn’t you, Eddy.” There was a long silence between them. “What d’you think I’d ought to do?” asked Eddy, almost in a whisper. “Suppose we talk it over,” said Ross. “Yes—but—_I_ dunno who you are.” “Well, let’s say I’m Ives.” Eddy sprang back as if he had been struck. “_Ives!_” “Look here!” said Ross. “I’m going to tell you what I did.” And, very bluntly, he told. Eddy listened to him in silence; it was a strange enough thing, but he showed no surprise. “D’you think it’ll work?” he asked, when Ross had finished. “I hope so. Anyhow, there’s a chance. Now, you better tell me the whole thing. There’s a lot that I don’t know—and I might make a bad mistake.” The telephone rang again. It was Gracie, annoyed by this delay. “I’ll come as soon as I can,” said Ross, severely. “But I’m working on the car, and I can’t leave off for a few minutes.” He turned again to Eddy. “Go ahead!” he said. Eddy sat down on the step of the sedan, and Ross leaned back against the wall, his arms folded, his saturnine face shadowed by the peaked cap. “Tuesday I went and got her—the kid, y’ know, and took her to the cottage.” “Did you know about her before?”