"Well, I have an idea that the dago knows something that's valuable. Last summer Henry went cruising in the Sound with a pretty rotten crowd, poker being the chief diversion. A man died on the boat before they got back to New York. The report was that he fell down a hatchway when he was drunk, but there were some ugly stories in the papers about it. That Italian sailor was one of the crew." "Where is he now?" "Over at Battle Orchard. He knows his man and knows he'll be back. I'm waiting for Henry, too. Helen gave him twenty thousand dollars. The way the market is running he's likely to go broke any day. He plays stocks like a crazy man, and after he's busted he'll be back on our hands." "It's hard on Miss Pat." "And it's harder on Helen. She's in terror all the time for fear her father will go up against the law and bring further disgrace on the family. There's her Uncle Arthur, a wanderer on the face of the earth for his sins. That was bad enough without the rest of it." "That was greed, too, wasn't it?" "No, just general cussedness. He blew in the Holbrook bank and skipped." These facts I had gathered before, but they seemed of darker significance now, as we spoke of them in the dimly lighted room of the squalid inn. I recalled a circumstance that had bothered me earlier, but which I had never satisfactorily explained, and I determined to sound Gillespie in regard to it. "You told me that Henry Holbrook found his way here ahead of you. How do you account for that?" He looked at me quickly, and rose, again pacing the narrow room. "I don't! I wish I could!" "It's about the last place in the world to attract him. Port Annandale is a quiet resort frequented by western people only. There's neither hunting nor fishing worth mentioning; and a man doesn't come from New York to Indiana to sail a boat on a thimbleful of water like this lake." "You are quite right." "If Helen Holbrook gave him warning that they were coming here--" He wheeled on me fiercely, and laid his hand roughly on my shoulder. "Don't you dare say it! She couldn't have done it! She wouldn't have done it! I tell you I know, independently of her, that he was here before Father Stoddard ever suggested this place to Miss Pat." "Well, you needn't get so hot about it." "And you needn't insinuate that she is not acting honorably in this affair! I should think that after making love to her, as you have been doing, and playing the role of comforter to Miss Pat, you would have the decency not to accuse her of connivance with Henry Holbrook." "You let your jealousy get the better of your good sense. I have not been making love to Miss Holbrook!" I declared angrily and knew in my heart that I lied. "Well, Irishman," he exclaimed with entire good humor; "let us not bring up mine host to find us locked in mortal combat." "What the devil _did_ you bring me up here for?" I demanded.