“So far as I know, nothing at all. You’d better do a bit of detective work on your own account.” Ellery said nothing in reply to that. While they had been talking, he had been turning over in his mind the question whether, after what had happened, he could possibly speak to his guardian about his love for Joan. He had told himself firmly that he could not; but, just when he had thought his mind made up, he found himself beginning to speak about it all the same. He was so full of it that he could not keep from declaring it. “Was Joan really engaged to Prinsep?” he asked. Harry Lucas had a good idea of Ellery’s reason for asking the question. But he gave no hint of this in his answer, preferring to let the young man speak or not of his own affairs, as might seem to him best. “No—that she never was,” he replied. “Long ago, Sir Vernon had set his heart on their marrying, and he always persisted in treating it as settled. Joan, I know, had told him again and again that she would not marry Prinsep; but he always put her off, and said that it would all come right in the end. Between ourselves, I don’t think Prinsep was really very keen on marrying Joan; but he was prepared to do it because Sir Vernon wanted it, and he was afraid he would not get the money if he refused. I don’t know that I ought to speak like that about him now that he’s dead: but you know very well that I disliked him, and it’s no use pretending that I didn’t.” Ellery felt his spirits rising as he heard what Lucas said—and again he accused himself of being a beast for feeling cheerful on such an occasion. No more was said then, and during dinner, while the servants were in the room, they talked of other things—of the play which Ellery was writing, of where he had been during the day, of many indifferent matters. They were both glad when dinner was over, and they could return to the smoking-room and be again alone. Then it was that Ellery told Lucas of his love for Joan. And then he had his surprise; for he found that his guardian had discovered that for himself long ago, and that he was being strongly encouraged to persist in his suit. “My dear boy,” said Lucas, “of course you’re in love with Joan, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if you find out before long that she’s in love with you. She’s a very fine young woman, and I couldn’t wish you better fortune than to win her. I hope you will, when the time comes. But, of course, you can’t make love to her just now. You will have to wait until this terrible affair is over.” “But, if I see her how can I possibly help telling her now—now that other fellow is out of the way? I know I shall simply blurt it out, and probably spoil my chance for good and all.”