"He tells them what would be the outcome if they fought, who would win and who would lose and by how much. And they believe him and abide by his decision without fighting; for he knows; and they know that he knows and is absolutely honest." Eaton was silent for a moment as they walked along. "How can he come to his decision?" he asked at last. "How?" "I mean, much of the material presented to him must be documentary." "Much of it is." "You will pardon me," Eaton prefaced, "but of course I am immensely interested. How are these written out for him--in Braille characters or other letters for the blind?" "No; that would not be practicable for all documents, and so it is done with none of them." "Then some one must read them to him." "Of course." Eaton started to speak--then refrained. "What were you going to say?" she questioned. "That the person--or persons--who reads the documents to him must occupy an extremely delicate position." "He does. In fact, I think that position is Father's one nightmare." "Nightmare?" "The person he trusts must not only be absolutely discreet but absolutely honest." "I should think so. If any one in that position wanted to use the information brought to your father, he could make himself millions overnight, undoubtedly, and ruin other men." "And kill Father too," the girl added quietly. "Yes," she said as Eaton looked at her. "Father puts nothing above his trust. If that trust were betrayed--whether or not Father were in any way to blame for it--I think it would kill him." "So you are the one who is in that position." "Yes; that is, I have been." "You mean there is another now; that is, of course, Mr. Avery?" "Yes; here at this house Mr. Avery and I, and Mr. Avery at the office. There are some others at the office whom Father trusts, but not completely; and it is not necessary to trust them wholly, for all Father's really important decisions are made at the house, and the most important records are kept here. Before Mr. Avery came, I was the only one who helped here at the house." "When was that?" "When Mr. Avery came? About five years ago. Father had an immense amount of work at that time. Business conditions were very much unsettled. There was trouble at that time between some of the big Eastern and the big Western men, and at the same time the Government was prosecuting the Trusts. Nobody knew what the outcome of it all would be; many of the biggest men who consulted Father were like men groping in the dark. I don't suppose you would remember the time by what I say; but you would remember it, as nearly everybody else does by this: it was the time of the murder of Mr. Latron." "Yes; I remember that," said Eaton; "and Mr. Avery came to you at that time?" "Yes; just at that time I was thrown from my horse, and could not do as much as I had been doing, so Mr. Avery was sent to Father." "Then Mr. Avery was reading to him at the time you speak of--the time of the Latron murder?"