“I remember,” and Aunt Abby nodded; “you mean that Bishop man and all that. But this affair it quite different. You don’t believe Mr. Mortimer was a party to deceit, do you?” “No, I don’t. Mortimer is a judge and a most honest man, besides. He wouldn’t stoop to trickery in a thing of this sort. But he has been himself deceived.” “Then how was it done?” cried Eunice, triumphantly; “for no one else knew where the knife was hidden, except that newspaper man who hid it, and he was sincere, of course, or there’d be no sense in the whole thing.” “I know that. Yes, the newspaper people were hoodwinked, too.” “Then what happened?” Eunice persisted. “There’s no possible explanation but telepathy. Is there, now?” “I don’t know of any,” Hendricks was forced to admit. “After the excitement blows over a little, I’ll try to speak with Mortimer again. I’d like to know his opinion.” They sat in the car, looking at the hilarious crowds of people, most of whom seemed imbued with a wild desire to get to the hero of the hour and demand his secret. “There’s a man who looks like Tom Meredith,” said Eunice, suddenly. “By the way, Alvord, where do the Merediths stand in the matter of the club election?” “Which of them?” “Either--or both. I suppose they’re on your side--they never seemed to like Sanford much.” “My dear Eunice, don’t be so narrow-minded. Club men don’t vote one way or another because of a personal like or dislike--they consider the good of the club--the welfare of the organization.” “Well, then, which side do they favor as being for the good of the club?” “Ask Sanford.” “Oh--if you don’t want to tell me.” Eunice looked provokingly pretty and her piquant face showed a petulant expression as she turned it to Hendricks. “Smile on me again and I’ll tell you anything you want to know: if I know it myself.” A dazzling smile answered this speech, and Hendricks’ gaze softened as he watched her. “But you’ll have to ask me something else, for, alas, the brothers Meredith haven’t made a confidant of me.” “Story-teller” and Eunice’s dark eyes assumed the look of a roguish little girl. “You can’t fool me, Alvord; now tell me, and I’ll invite you in to tea when we get home.” “I’m going in, anyway.” “Not unless you tell me what I ask. Why won’t you? Is it a secret? Pooh! I’d just as lief ask Mr. Tom Meredith myself, if I could see him. Never mind, don’t tell me, if you don’t want to. You’re not my only confidential friend; there are others.” “Who are they, Euny? I flattered myself I was your only really, truly intimate friend--not even excepting your husband!” “Oh, what a naughty speech! If you weren’t Sanford’s very good friend, I’d never speak to you again!” “I don’t see how you two men can be friends,” put in Aunt Abby, “when you’re both after that same presidency.”