"Why do you ask me that? You know that heart-disease may attack one at any time without warning." Anita sank upon the window-seat again, and leaned forward pensively, her hands clasped over her knees. "You will remember that after you and father had your coffee and cigars together in the dining-room, you both joined me?" "Of course. You were playing the piano, ramblingly, as if your thoughts were far away, and you seemed nervous, ill at ease. I wondered about it at the time." "It was because of father. To you he appeared in the best of spirits, as you say, but I, who knew him better than any one else on earth, realized that he was forcing himself to be genial, to take an interest in what we were saying. For days he had been overwrought and depressed. As you know, he has confided in me, absolutely, since I have been old enough to be a real companion to him. I thought that I knew all his business affairs--those of the last two or three years at least--but latterly his manner has puzzled and distressed me. Then, while you were in the dining-room, the telephone rang twice." "Yes; the calls were for your father. When he was summoned to the wire he immediately had the connection given to him on his private line, here in the library. After he returned to the dining-room he did seem slightly absent-minded, now that I think of it; but it did not occur to me that there could have been any serious trouble. You know, dearest, ever since the evening when he promised to give you to me, he has consulted me, also, to a great extent about his financial interests, and I think if any difficulty had arisen he would have mentioned it." "Still, I am convinced that something was on his mind. I tried to approach him concerning it, but he was evasive, and put me off, laughingly. You know that father was not the sort of man whose confidence could be forced even by those dearest to him. I had been so worried about him, though, that I had a nervous headache, and after you left, Ramon, I retired at once. An hour or two later, father had a visitor--that fact as you know, the coroner elicited from the servants, but it had, of course, no bearing on his death, since the caller was Mr. Rockamore. I heard his voice when I opened the door of my room, after ringing for my maid to get some lavender salts. I could not sleep, my headache grew worse; and while I was struggling against it, I heard Mr. Rockamore depart, and my father's voice in the hall, after the slamming of the front door, telling Wilkes to retire, that he would need him no more that night. I heard the butler's footsteps pass down the hall, and then I rose and opened my door again. I don't know why, but I felt that I wanted to speak to father when he came up on his way to bed." Anita paused, and Ramon, in spite of himself, felt a thrill of puzzled wonder at her expression, upon which a dawning look, almost of horror, spread and grew.