“Aunt Reliance, whatever you have to tell me won’t make any difference in my feeling toward him. If what I have heard is true--and I am afraid--yes, I am sure it is--then it is a matter between him and me. And one other. Don’t ask me about it now. Tell me what you came to tell. You have found out something about what happened that night, after the ‘Pinafore’ performance, between Seymour Covell and--and Bob. Of course you have. Well, so have I.” Reliance was startled. “_You_ have found out--!” she cried. “But how could you?” “Bob told me. I went to see him at his studio yesterday afternoon.” “You went there! Oh, dear me! That was a risky thing to do, Esther. There will be more talk.” “I don’t think any one saw me; but never mind if they did. I had to go.” “And did he tell you--everything?” “No; but he told me a good deal. He admitted that he met Seymour on the lower road that morning, that they had high words, and how the accident happened. He would not tell me why Seymour was there, with uncle’s horses, at such a time. Nor why they quarreled. Oh, Aunt Reliance, if you do know more than that, please tell me. Can’t you see I must know?” Reliance still hesitated. “Before I do, dearie,” she said gently, “will you answer another question? Do you--do you really care for this Mr. Covell?” Esther stepped back. “Care for him?” she repeated. “Care _for him_?... No,” emphatically, “I do not.” Reliance seemed to find the answer satisfactory. She nodded. “I see,” she said slowly. “You poor child! Yes, yes, I see. You must have had a dreadful time the last few days. I will tell you. I learned a lot last night before I went to bed. This morning I made it my business to learn the rest. Esther, where do you suppose I’ve been--just now, before I came here?” “Why--I don’t know.” “I guess you don’t. And very few others, I hope. I have been away down to Henry Campton’s house on the lower road. I went there to see that girl of his--that Carrie.” Esther stared in utter amazement. “You went to see Carrie Campton?” she repeated. “Why?” “Because I judged she could fit in the pieces of the puzzle I was trying to work out. And that is what she did before she and I finished. Wait a minute, Esther. Yes, she fitted in the last pieces, but the first ones came from somebody else. You have heard the story that has been going around--that about some man or other who saw Covell and Griffin that night? But of course you have. Abbie Makepeace told me she was kind enough to repeat it to you. Well, I told _her_ one or two things when I learned what she had done. She scarcely speaks to me now, but that is a great deal harder trial for her than it is for me. Esther, I know now who that man was. He--oh dear! I hate to tell you his name. I am ashamed to.” Esther smiled, faintly. “Perhaps you don’t need to,” she said. “It was Uncle Millard, wasn’t it?” And now it was Miss Clark who was amazed. “My soul!” she gasped. “How did you know that?”