“All right, my lady! Put on your high and mighty air, if you choose--but before you marry that man--make sure that he did not himself prepare the way for the wedding!” “What do you mean? Are you accusing Mason of--” “I make no accusations. But--who did kill Sanford? I know you didn’t do it--and Elliott has engaged Stone to prove that you didn’t. It is absurd, we all know, to suspect Aunt Abby--I was out of town--who is left but Mason?” “Hush! I won’t listen to, such a suggestion! Mason was at his home that night.” “Are you sure?” “Of course, I’m sure! And I don’t have to have it proved by a detective either! And now, Alvord Hendricks, you may go! I don’t care to talk to anyone who can make such a contemptible accusation against a lifelong friend!” But before Hendricks left, Elliott himself came in. He was grave and preoccupied. He bowed a little curtly to Hendricks, and, as he took Eunice’s hand, he said, “May I see you alone? I want to talk over some business matters--and I’m pressed for time.” “Oh, all right,” Hendricks said, “I can take a hint. I’m going. How’s your sleuth progressing, Elliott? Has Mr. Stone unearthed the murderer yet?” “Not yet--but soon,” and Elliott essayed to pass the subject off lightly. “Very soon?” Hendricks looked at him in a curious manner. “Very soon, I think.” “That’s interesting. Would it be indiscreet to ask in what direction one must look for the criminal?” “It would very.” Elliott smiled a little. “Now run along, Hendricks, that’s a good chap. I’ve important business matters to talk over with Eunice.” Hendricks went, and Elliott turned to Eunice, with a grave face, “I’ve been going over Sanford’s private papers,” he said, “and, Eunice, there’s a lot that we want to keep quiet.” “Was Sanford a bad man?” she asked, her quiet, white face imploring a negative answer. “Not so very, but, as you know, he had a love of money--a sort of acquisitiveness, that led him into questionable dealings. He loaned money to any one who would give him security--” “That isn’t wrong!” “Not in itself--but, oh, Eunice, I can’t explain it to you--or, at least, I don’t want to--but Sanford lent money to men--to his friends--who were in great exigency--who gave their choicest belongings, their treasures as security--and then--he had no leniency--no compassion for them--” “Why should he have?” “Because--well, there is a justice, that is almost criminal. Sanford was a--a Shylock! There, can you understand now?” “Who were his debtors? Alvord?”