"Mr. Philip Winthrop is in no condition to answer questions now. He will be examined before the coroner's inquest when able to leave his room." "Then I do not see the object of this interview," objected Thornton. "Young Mr. Winthrop is better able to tell you of Senator Carew's movements that day than Mrs. Winthrop." "I cannot wait so long." Brett shook his head decidedly. "What clews there are will grow cold, and I cannot afford to risk that. I am deeply interested in clearing up this terrible affair." "And do you think I am less so?" demanded Mrs. Winthrop indignantly. "On the contrary, Mr. Brett, I will move Heaven and earth to find the perpetrator of that dastardly deed. I have just told Colonel Thornton that I will offer a reward of one thousand dollars for information leading to the criminal's arrest." "Ah, then you do _not_ think the negro coachman, Hamilton, guilty?" put in Brett quickly. "I have not said so," but Mrs. Winthrop looked disconcerted for a second, then regained her usual serenity. "My idea in offering the reward was to assist your investigation, and Colonel Thornton agreed with me that it was an excellent plan." "Mrs. Winthrop," the detective spoke with greater distinctness, "was Senator Carew on good terms with all the members of his family?" "He was, sir, with members of this household." Mrs. Winthrop hesitated briefly, then continued, "I think that I had better tell you that, since his return from Panama a short time ago, my brother received a number of threatening letters." "Indeed," Brett's tone betrayed his satisfaction. "Can I see the letters?" "Unfortunately my brother destroyed the one he showed me." "What was its contents?" inquired Brett. "To the best of my recollection the message, which was written in an obviously disguised writing, read somewhat like this: "'Your movements are watched. If you act, you die'." "Did you see the envelope?" asked Brett, as he jotted down the words in his memorandum book. "No. At the time my brother showed it to me he told me that he had received several others; that he had no idea to what they referred; and that he never paid attention to anonymous communications." "I see." Brett thoughtfully replaced his notebook in his pocket. "Can I talk to your niece, Miss Cynthia Carew?" Mrs. Winthrop shook her head. "She is still too prostrated to be interviewed." "Poor little soul! It was a ghastly experience for her," ejaculated Colonel Thornton. "It was indeed," agreed Mrs. Winthrop. "She was devoted to her uncle, and he to her. Consequently the shock has driven her half out of her mind." "Miss Thornton--" Brett turned and faced Eleanor--"do you know to whom Miss Carew referred when she exclaimed on greeting you yesterday afternoon: 'They quarreled, Eleanor, they quarreled!'" Mrs. Winthrop caught her breath sharply. "Why, her words referred to Hamilton, the coachman," replied Eleanor quietly, and her eyes did not waver before Brett's stern glance.