Eaton stared at Santoine, fascinated; what had been only vague, half felt, half formed with himself, was becoming definite, tangible, under the blind man's reasoning. He was aware that Harriet Santoine was looking alternately from him to her father, herself startled by the revelation thus passionlessly recited. What her father was saying was new to her; he had not taken his daughter into his confidence to this extent. Eaton's hands closed instinctively, in his emotion. "What do you mean?" "You understand already," Santoine asserted. "The attack made on me was meant for you. Some one stealing through the cars from the front to the rear of the train and carrying in his mind the location Section Three in the third car, struck through the curtains by mistake at me instead of you. Who was that, Eaton?" Eaton sat unanswering, staring. "You did not realize before, that the man on the train meant to murder you?" Santoine demanded. "No," said Eaton. "I see you understand it now; and that it was the same man--or some one accompanying the man--who tried to run you down this morning. Who is that man?" "I don't know," Eaton answered. "You mean you prefer to shield him?" "Shield him?" "That is what you are doing, is it not? For, even if you don't know the man directly, you know in whose cause and under whose direction he murdered Warden--and why and for whom he is attempting to murder you." Eaton remained silent. In his intensity, Santoine had lifted himself from his pillows. "Who is that man?" he challenged. "And what is that connection between you and me which, when the attack found and disabled me instead of you, told him that--in spite of his mistake--his result had been accomplished? told him that, if I was dying, a repetition of the attack against you was unnecessary?" Eaton knew that he had grown very pale; Harriet must be aware of the effect Santoine's words had on him, but he did not dare look at her now to see how much she was comprehending. All his attention was needed to defend himself against Santoine. "I don't understand." He fought to compose himself. "It is perfectly plain," Santoine said patiently. "It was believed at first that I had been fatally hurt; it was even reported at one time--I understand--that I was dead; only intimate friends have been informed of my actual condition. Yesterday, for the first time, the newspapers announced the certainty of my recovery; and to-day an attack is made on you." "There has been no opportunity for an attack on me before, if this was an attack. On the train I was locked up under charge of the conductor." "You have been off the train nearly a week." "But I have been kept here in your house." "You have been allowed to walk about the grounds." "But I've been watched all the time; no one could have attacked me without being seen by your guards." "They did not hesitate to attack you in sight of my daughter." "But--"