"Or who would commit a crime for his own interest--material or financial interest, I mean?" "No." "But he might be led into crime by some personal, deeper interest. He has shown deep feeling, I believe--strong, personal feeling, Harriet?" "Yes." "Mr. Eaton,"--Santoine addressed him suddenly,--"I understand that you have admitted that you were at the house of Gabriel Warden the evening he was killed while in his car. Is that so?" "Yes," said Eaton. "You are the man, then, of whom Gabriel Warden spoke to his wife?" "I believe so." "You believe so?" "I mean," Eaton explained quietly, "that I came by appointment to call on Mr. Warden that night. I believe that it must have been to me that Mr. Warden referred in the conversation with his wife which has since been quoted in the newspapers." "Because you were in such a situation that, if Mr. Warden defended you, he would himself meet danger?" "I did not say that," Eaton denied guardedly. "What, then, was your position in regard to Mr. Warden?" Eaton remained silent. "You refuse to answer?" Santoine inquired. "I refuse." "In spite of the probability that Mr. Warden met his death because of his intention to undertake something for you?" "I have not been able to fix that as a probability." The blind man stopped. Plainly he appreciated that, where Connery and Avery had failed in their questionings, he was not likely to succeed easily; and with his limited strength, he proceeded on a line likely to meet less prepared resistance. "Mr. Eaton, have I ever injured you personally--I don't mean directly, as man to man, for I should remember that; have I ever done anything which indirectly has worked injury on you or your affairs?" "No," Eaton answered. "Who sent you aboard this train?" "Sent me? No one." "You took the train of your own will because I was taking it?" "I have not said I took it because you were taking it." "That seems to be proved. You can accept it from me; it has been proved. Did you take the train in order to attack me?" "No." "To spy upon me?" "No." Santoine was silent for an instant. "What was it you took the train to tell me?" "I? Nothing." Santoine moved his head upon the pillow. "Father!" his daughter warned. "Oh, I am careful, Harriet; Dr. Sinclair allows me to move a little.... Mr. Eaton, in one of the three answers you have just given me, you are not telling the truth. I defy you to find in human reasoning more than four reasons why my presence could have made you take this train in the manner and with the attending circumstances you did. You took it to injure me, or to protect me from injury; to learn something from me, or to inform me of something. I discard the second of these possibilities because you asked for a berth in another car and for other reasons which make it impossible. However, I will ask it of you. Did you take the train to protect me from injury?" "No." "Which of your former answers do you wish to change, then?"