"Father," he said at last, "I do not like to press the subject on you when you are so far from strong; but how do you account for Morris Thornton's body being found in Mr. Silwood's chambers--have you formed any theory?" "I know no more about it than you," cried Francis Eversleigh, wildly; "and I do not know what to think.... I cannot think about it at all ... my brain refuses to act.... I have no idea ... it is all a terrible and horrible mystery to me!" And then he flung up his hands, as if he were throwing off some weight which oppressed him. "Oh, it is dreadful, dreadful, dreadful!" he cried; then burst into a passion of sobs, the sound and sight of which moved and distressed Gilbert exceedingly. "Father! Father!" said the son, soothingly, in accents of deepest sympathy. In a few moments Eversleigh grew calmer, and became a little more like his usual self. "There is just one thing I'd like to ask you, father," said Gilbert; "that is, if it is not too painful for you." "What is it, my son?" "You uttered one word in that room over there," returned Gilbert, nodding in the direction of Stone Buildings. "What?" "The one word was 'Murder!' Do you think Mr. Thornton was murdered?" Francis Eversleigh stared about him with dilated eyes, as might some being who was persecuted and hunted. "I don't know what to think," he said at length. "But you did exclaim 'Murder!' That was the idea in your mind, was it not?" "Ah, Gilbert, my mind was utterly confused.... I had suffered a tremendous blow.... Surely I can't be held responsible for what I said in my condition at the time." "True, father. Still, there was the idea of murder in your mind," persisted Gilbert. "I tell you that I know nothing--nothing." "Of course, you know nothing, father; but your thought on seeing the body--your suspicion--was that there had been murder. Was it not so?" "I can't say anything about it," replied Eversleigh, fretfully. "I know as much and as little as you do how it was that Thornton came to be in Silwood's chambers. Pray do not tease me--do not worry me--I cannot stand it; it is cruel of you to torture me in this fashion." Gilbert stared at his father, wondering what was meant by the expression "torture"--he could not understand it. He was glad that the doctor returned at this moment, bringing with him wine and a light lunch for the invalid. Leaving his father to the doctor's care, he went down to the next floor, where he saw his brother Ernest, who was all agog to hear the story. When Ernest had listened to Gilbert's narrative, his sole commentary upon it was-- "Of course, everybody will say that Morris Thornton was murdered by Silwood; what other conclusion can there be?" "But why?" urged Gilbert. "What motive could Silwood have? No, I don't think that can be the explanation. I confess, however, the thing baffles me completely."