For a moment Bobby's curiosity overcame the confusion aroused by his grandfather's apparently occult return. All along they had craved the knowledge he was about to give them, the statement on which Bobby's life had seemed to depend. Blackburn, however, was unwilling. The question seemed to have returned to him something of his normal manner. "No use," he mumbled, "going into that." "A good deal of use," Robinson insisted. Blackburn shifted his feet. He gazed at his pipe doubtfully. "I don't see why. That didn't come, and seems it wasn't what I ought to have been afraid of after all. All along I ought to have been afraid only of the Cedars and the old room. I've been accused of being unjust. I don't want to do an injustice now." "Please answer," Robinson said impatiently. "You must answer," Graham urged. "I don't see that it makes the slightest difference," Paredes drawled. "What has it got to do with the case as it stands to-night?" Robinson snapped at him. "You keep out of it. Don't forget there's a lot you haven't answered yet." Silas Blackburn looked straight at Bobby. Slowly he raised his hand, pointing an accusing finger at his grandson. "If you want to know, I was afraid of that young rascal." Katherine started impulsively forward in an effort to stop him. Blackburn waved her away. "You trying to scare me, Katy?" he asked suspiciously. "Evidently," Robinson commented to Graham, "Howells wasn't as dull as we thought him. Go on, Mr. Blackburn. Why were you afraid of your grandson?" "Maybe he can tell you better than I can," the old man answered. "Don't see any use raking up such things, anyway. Maybe I'd been pretty harsh with him. Anyway, I knew he hated the ground I walked on and would be glad enough to see me drop in my tracks." "That isn't so," Bobby said. "You keep quiet now. You always talked too much." So the old feeling survived. "Go on," Robinson urged. "I'd always been a hard worker," Blackburn whined, "and he was a waster. Naturally we didn't get along. I'd decided to make a new will, leaving my money to the Bedford Foundation, and I wrote him that, thinking it would bring him hot foot to make it up with me. I'd been nervous about him before, because I didn't know what might come into his head when he was on these wild parties. So I'd spoken to Howells, thinking I'd trip him if he tried any funny business. When he didn't come that night I got scared. He knew I wouldn't make the new will until morning, and since I couldn't see any man throwing all that money away, I figured he'd guessed he couldn't turn me and wouldn't waste any time talking.