"Not exactly—anyway not the way he did for her. She was always awfully nice to him—the few times he came into the office—gentle and sweet, but not the way she was with Barker. She was two different women to them—with Harland a sort of affable, gracious winner, but with Barker a girl with a man she’s fond of, natural, glad to see him, no society stunts. "A little before Christmas I caught on to the fact that she was receiving letters from Barker, and Harland offered me extra money if I’d get their contents. This wasn’t so easy. Generally she took them away with her, but twice she left them on her desk. All I had to do then was to stay overtime and when she was gone, copy them. That way I got on to something that phazed us both—she and Barker were up to some scheme." O’Mally moved slightly in his chair. "Scheme?" he said—"What do you mean by scheme?" "Something they were planning to do. After Christmas every time he’d come they’d go into the private office and talk there so low you couldn’t catch a word. And the letters were all about it, but we couldn’t get a line on what it was. I’ll show them to you and you’ll see for yourself. It got Harland wild, for though they weren’t exactly love letters, they showed that she and Barker were close knit in some secret enterprise." "Did you continue this work till the day of the suicide?" "I did—to the night—to the time it happened. Harland was getting more and more worked up. I don’t know whether it was the Barker-Whitehall business or his own financial worries, but I could see he was holding the lid on with difficulty. That day, January fifteenth, as you may remember, he was in her office and had a talk with her. As he went out I saw that he looked cheered-up, brisk and confident. Of course I’ve no idea what she said to him, but knowing the state he was in, I’ll swear it was something that gave him hope. Yet a few hours after that he killed himself. "Seeing him so heartened up and being curious myself, I decided to stay that evening and do a little quiet snooping among her papers. But she nearly blocked that game. She was in the habit of going between half-past five and six, leaving me to close up. That night she didn’t do it, but hung about in the office, and after watching her for a few minutes I saw that she was on the jump—moving about, going from one desk to the other, glancing at the clock. Her manner made me certain that something was up—it was possible it had to do with the scheme she and Barker were hatching. I got the idea that I’d go and come back after a while, on the chance of stumbling on something that would be useful to my employer. I left her there and after loafing round for about half an hour returned. The office was dark and she’d gone. I lit up and looked over her desk in the Exhibit Room and a table in my room where she kept some papers, but found nothing. Then I thought I’d take a look into the private office but that door was locked."