“So you came?” “Yes, as soon as I could get here.” “Have you seen—er—Mr. Tracy?” “No; Mr. Ames advised against it.” “Well, Miss Remsen, I think we want no information from you, except a formal statement of your relationship to the dead man and your standing with him.” “Standing?” “Yes. Were you good friends?” “The best. I loved Uncle Sampson and he loved me, I know. I am his only living relative, except some distant cousins. I am the daughter of his sister, of whom he was very fond.” The girl was a bit of an enigma. She seemed straightforward and sincere, yet I was somehow conscious of a reservation in her talk, a glibness of speech that carried the idea of a prearranged story. Why I should mistrust her I couldn’t say, at first. Then I remembered that I had seen her canoeing over to Pleasure Dome in the night, and now she was saying she had not done so. “Are you his heiress?” The question came sharply. “So far as I know,” she replied with perfect equanimity. “My uncle has told me that his will leaves the bulk of his estate to me, but he also told me that when he married Mrs. Dallas, he would revise that will, and make different arrangements.” “Did you resent this?” “Not at all. I knew my uncle would leave me a proper portion of his wealth, and that as long as he lived he would take care of his sister’s child.” “You are an only child of your parents?” “I had a twin sister. She died fourteen years ago.” “And she is buried on this estate?” “Her grave is in a small cemetery which also contains the graves of my parents and five or six other relatives of my uncle’s family.” “How did it come about that the cemetery is on the grounds of the estate? It is, I believe, a New England custom.” “It was my mother’s wish. She was devoted to the little girl who died and wanted to have the grave where she could visit it often. My uncle humoured her and also had the remains of my father sent here to be buried beside the child. Then, when my mother died, about a year ago, naturally she was buried there, too.” “I see. What did your sister die of?” “Scarlet fever. There was an epidemic of it. We both had it, but I pulled through, though it left me with a slight deafness in one ear.” “Then, after your mother’s death, you went to live by yourself on the island. Why did you do this?” “Because my uncle was to marry Mrs. Dallas.” “And you don’t like Mrs. Dallas?” “I don’t dislike her at all, but I am not of an easy-going disposition. I felt sure there would be clashes, and I told uncle I’d rather live by myself. He understood and agreed. So after some looking about, we decided on the island of Whistling Reeds as the most attractive site for a home.” “And he built a house for you there?” “Oh, no, the house was already there. He bought the whole island, house and all.” “You like it as a home?” “I love it. I am happier there than I could be anywhere else.” “Are you not lonely?”