“Witness!” Miss Alicia found the word alarming. Mr. Palford's bow was apologetically palliative. “A mere figure of speech, madam,” he said. “I really know so little every one else doesn't know.” Miss Alicia's protest had a touch of bewilderment in it. What could they wish to ask her? “But, as we understand it, your relations with Mr. Temple Barholm were most affectionate and confidential.” “We were very fond of each other,” she answered. “For that reason he no doubt talked to you more freely than to other people,” Mr. Grimby put it. “Perhaps, Palford, it would be as well to explain to Miss Temple Barholm that a curious feature of this matter is that it--in a way--involves certain points concerning the late Mr. Temple Barholm.” Miss Alicia uttered a pathetic exclamation. “Poor Jem--who died so cruelly!” Mr. Palford bent his head in acquiescence. “Perhaps you can tell me what the present Mr. Temple Barholm knew of him--how much he knew?” “I told him the whole story the first time we took tea together,” Miss Alicia replied; and, between her recollection of that strangely happy afternoon and her wonder at its connection with the present moment, she began to feel timid and uncertain. “How did it seem to impress him?” She remembered it all so well--his queer, dear New York way of expressing his warm-hearted indignation at the cruelty of what had happened. “Oh, he was very much excited. He was so sorry for him. He wanted to know everything about him. He asked me what he looked like.” “Oh!” said Palford. “He wanted to know that?” “He was so full of sympathy,” she replied, her explanation gaining warmth. “When I told him that the picture of Miles Hugo in the gallery was said to look like Jem as a boy, he wanted very much to see it. Afterward we went and saw it together. I shall always remember how he stood and looked at it. Most young men would not have cared. But he always had such a touching interest in poor Jem.” “You mean that he asked questions about him--about his death, and so forth?” was Mr. Palford's inquiry. “About all that concerned him. He was interested especially in his looks and manner of speaking and personality, so to speak. And in the awful accident which ended his life, though he would not let me talk about that after he had asked his first questions.” “What kind of questions?” suggested Grimby. “Only about what was known of the time and place, and how the sad story reached England. It used to touch me to think that the only person who seemed to care was the one who--might have been expected to be almost glad the tragic thing had happened. But he was not.” Mr. Palford watched Mr. Grimby, and Mr. Grimby gave more than one dubious and distressed glance at Palford. “His interest was evident,” remarked Palford, thoughtfully. “And unusual under the circumstances.”