"Don't she suspect anything?" "Not a syllable. Couldn't a man that gulled a man like you easily fool a girl? Call her up as she knelt there just now. Think that some day she may have children of her own. What kind of satisfaction would it give you to think you'd made that pretty head hang down in shame?" The detective grunted something unintelligible. "Miss Gastonguay approves of you so far, but she's mighty clever, and she is figuring this whole thing out. I guess from something she let slip she suspects her niece. Anyway, she thinks you have done your duty, but if you'll let everything slide and go home quietly, like a good boy, I'm instructed to give you a little sweetener, a check for--" and he murmured the rest of his sentence in his companion's ear. The sum mentioned in one instant consoled H. Robinson for loss of sleep, loss of celebrity, loss of temper, and all other losses. He had been soaring above things mercenary during the last few hours, but now he felt himself speedily drawn back to them. "All right," he said, "but one question,--did he suicide?" "No, he did not." "What was he going to be fool enough to come back here for? I guess he knew I was on his track." "He wasn't coming,--he was going to be brought." "Oh! that's why you were so plumb sure." "What made you so plumb sure he would come here?" "I've heard how he was set on his daughter, and a sick man like a sick animal runs for his home." "His home?" "By home, I mean family. He came of a swell lot according to himself; but those fellows always like to strut. I guess he was a Westerner." "I guess so. Look here, I'll tell you how he died. His pig-iron will kept him up till he got here; when he heard you were coming it nearly finished him. But he was a cool one. He managed to get on the yacht; then he told me the doctors said, if he had an attack like the one he'd just had, he could only last a few hours after it. When all was over he would get Miss Gastonguay to chuck him in the sea. I was to stay and keep you at bay. He held on till they got abreast of Dove Harbour, then,--well, I don't know what happened. Miss Gastonguay was alone with him. She's a good lot,--I knew she'd bring him back to bury him." "That she is," said the detective, cheerfully. "You needn't bother with any more explanations. So long," and he stepped ahead in order to give his companion a chance with the chief of police. "Chief," said Captain White, diplomatically, "you can't explain everything on this globe, can you?" "I guess not." "If a rich old lady chooses to bury nobody knows who in her cemetery, it's just as well to have nothing said?" "I'll agree to that." "You've got a wife?" "I'm pretty sure of that." "You don't tell her all your secrets?" "Couldn't very well." "Then keep on not telling her. Don't drop a hint that I'm going to call to-morrow at eleven about this business of to-night, and, by the way, help that tired butter-tub roll himself down to the hotel."