"He ignores it. I called his attention to it, and he said, 'Changed figures? Oh, I guess not. It doesn't matter, anyway; that, and more, will be at Miss Vernon's disposal some day.' So I said no more." Eugene Courtenay went straight to Joyce. "Do you know anything about a changed figure in Eric's will?" he asked, bluntly. "No," she returned; "what do you mean?" "Natalie Vernon altered her bequest from seven thousand dollars to seventy thousand." "How could she?" "It wasn't difficult. Eric wrote the will himself. He wrote seven and she made it seventy--the words, I mean. Then he wrote a figure seven and three ciphers, and she squeezed in another cipher. Mighty clever work, but as plain to be seen as a blot on a letter." "What possessed the child?" "Don't call her a child. The woman who could and would do that, is a Machiavelli in petticoats. But don't you see where the knowledge of her act leads us?" "You mean----" Joyce could not say it. "Of course I do. I've thought all along there was still a doubt of her." "Oh, I haven't. Even if she did alter the will, that doesn't prove----" "It doesn't prove--anything. But you know this will was made very recently----" "Of course; Natalie has only been here two months." "I know it. Well, say, Eric made this bequest to her, soon after she came--you know, Joyce, he was crazy over her from the very beginning----" "Yes, I know it, Eugene." "And then, when she got a chance, she changed it, and, why, _why_ would she do this, except to inherit--at once?" "Natalie! That dear little thing! Never! I did suspect her the least mite, just at first--but I don't now." "Barry does." "Oh, no! He can't." "He does. And that's why he didn't want any fuss made about her forgery----" "Don't call it that!" "It _is_ that. What else can I call it?" "But I can't believe it. Maybe--maybe somebody else did it. Barry----" "Nonsense! Why should Barry do it, when he fully intended to marry her?" "Oh, I don't know! It's all so confusing." "Not confusing; there's no doubt she did the forging. But it's a terrible state of affairs. I don't want to be the one to accuse her." "Must you?" "Well, I'd determined to sift things to the bottom to lay my hand on Eric's murderer. Primarily to clear myself--for your sake. And, too, for the sake of justice and right. I'll go now, Joyce, I must think this out alone. Good-bye, darling. Don't worry. I'll do only what is right, and--what you approve." XV Natalie in Danger "Natalie! What _are_ you doing?" Joyce entered Natalie's room, to find her on her knees before an open trunk. Hats and gowns lay about the room, the wardrobe shelves were empty, and as the girl was fairly flinging wearing apparel into the tills, the question was superfluous. "I'm packing," the model answered, "to go away." "Why, what has happened? Why do you want to go?"