"No, not worse. A man can fight injustice better than a woman. Have you told Roberts?" "About the pillow? No, I don't think so. But he'll find it out. That man digs into everything." "You invited him, yourself, to the séance?" "Yes. I thought it wise. I thought it would implicate some stranger and I wanted him to hear." "Why did you think it would accuse a stranger? Look here, Joyce, you didn't employ that woman to cook up a yarn, did you?" "Mercy, no!" and Joyce opened her eyes full at him. "Eugene! What an idea! Of course I didn't. Why, I believe in her as fully as--as I do in you! I can't say more than that! She is honest and earnest in what she tells. Whether she sees truly, is another thing, and one over which she has no control. But all she says is in sincerity and truth." "It may be. But she has surely woven a web around me. That is, if others share your belief in her. Now, I'm going to work, Joyce, to find my alibi." "What do you mean?" "I'm going to scare up somebody who saw me on that bench and will swear to it." "Swear falsely?" Joyce whispered the words. "If need be. But I hope to get an honest witness. May I speak to your outdoor servants? And the house staff, too, if necessary?" "Of course. Find the head gardener, Mason, he'll round up the rest. Oh, Eugene, you will find some one, surely. They are about the grounds every night. And perhaps Barry saw you. He was out with the dogs." "I'll find some one, dear. Don't worry." Courtenay went away, and Joyce went into the house. She went to Beatrice Faulkner's room, and found her there. "May I come in?" asked Joyce, at the door. "Always, any time. Why, what is the matter, dear?" "Beatrice! You don't think Eugene killed Eric, do you?" "Of course not! What nonsense!" "Well, they suspect him of it, and he's going to make up an alibi--or whatever you call it." "Not make one up! Don't ever say that, Joyce. You mean, he's going to find proof of his own testimony." "Yes, it's all the same. But, oh, Beatrice, if he did do it--I can never marry him----" "Hush, Joyce! You mustn't talk like that! Don't you want to save Eugene?" "Of course I do, if he's innocent." "Then believe him innocent! You wrong-minded woman, to doubt the man who loves you, at the first breath of suspicion!" "Then is he innocent, Beatrice? Is he?" "Look in your heart and answer that yourself." "I do look," said Joyce, solemnly, "but I can't read the answer." XIV From Seven to Seventy "Listen, Joyce, dear. You are nervous and excited, or you never would do Mr. Courtenay such injustice. Think back; remember how he has always loved you--long before you married Eric. How patient and good he has been, never showing any undue interest in you or any animosity toward Eric. Why, then, imagine that he would do this desperate thing?"