“I don’t _know_ anything, Rick, but I think you ought to do something definite in the way of detective work. Those men don’t get anywhere?” “Why, what do you mean? What do you know about that, Little Peachbloom?” “I don’t know anything. And you don’t, either. But unless you find out something there’ll be trouble. Now, Rick, stop treating me as a baby and talk about it. Who do you think killed him?” “Honestly, Dorrie, I think, just as he wrote, some women did it. I don’t know who they were, and I’m not sure I care to know,—for they were, no doubt, some—some people with whom we have no concern.” “That may be,” said the girl, very soberly, “and it may not be. You must realize, Rick, that those silly little chorus girls might have had reason to hate the man, but they could scarcely compass that killing.” Bates looked at her in astonishment. “What _do_ you mean?” he said, slowly; “that is, what are you hinting?” “Only that I think the murderers are of a higher type of women than giddy youngsters,——” “Murderers can’t be of a very high type——” “I don’t mean high type of character, but of brains. To my mind, that deed implies women of cleverness and mental power.” “Such as,——?” “Oh, I don’t know. But girls in our house are all older and wiser than a lot of giddy chorus girls. Why not suspect them?” “Why suspect anybody? I mean, what do we care? In one sense, I’d like to see the death of Uncle Herbert avenged, but on the other hand I’d hate to see women’s names dragged through the police court——” “But if they were guilty?” “That’s just the point! Ten chances to one they wouldn’t be. I mean those dunder-headed detectives are quite capable of getting the wrong ones and then railroading them through.” “Perhaps so. But I think you ought to do more than you have done. Why, Rick,—if,—if you don’t, first thing you know they’ll suspect you!” “What! Don’t be foolish, dear. I’m not a woman.” “I know, but some people think that’s a blind,——” “It can’t be a blind. There’s Uncle Bin’s writing,—and I know him well enough to be sure that with his dying breath he didn’t write anything but the truth. No, sir, women are responsible for that murder, and directly, too. Uncle Bin never flung that accusation at women if they were merely implicated. Now, don’t you see, dear, that investigation must result in tragedy for _some_ women,—and, as I say,—probably not the guilty ones.” “But it must be fastened on the guilty ones. They must be found——” Dorcas’ red lower lip quivered, and the big tears gathered in her eyes. She strove to keep her calmness but she was rapidly losing control over her emotions. “Why, Dorrie, darling, what is it? Tell me,—I’ll do whatever you want,—whatever you say! Do you know something you haven’t told me? Something you don’t want to tell me? What _is_ the matter, dearest?”