But Jeffrey Allen demurred. “You say that, Mr. Appleby, because you think one of the Wheeler family is the guilty party. But I know better. I know them so well——” “Not as well as I do,” interrupted Appleby, “and neither do you know all the points of the feud that has festered for so many years. If you’ll take my advice, Mr. Allen, you’ll delay action until my return, at least.” “The detectives won’t do that,” objected Jeffrey. “The detectives will run round in circles and get nowhere,” scoffed Appleby. “I shall be back as soon as possible, and I don’t mind telling you now that there will be no election campaign for me.” “What!” exclaimed Curtis Keefe. “You’re out of the running?” “Positively! I may take it up again some other year, but this campaign will not include my name.” “My gracious!” exclaimed Genevieve, who knew a great deal about current politics. “Who’ll take your place?” “A dark horse, likely,” returned Appleby, speaking in an absorbed, preoccupied manner, as if caring little who fell heir to his candidacy. “I don’t agree with you, Mr. Appleby,” spoke up Jeff Allen, “as to the inefficiency of the two men on this case. Seems to me they’re doing all they can, and I can’t help thinking they may get at the truth.” “All right, if they get at the truth, but it’s my opinion that the truth of this matter is not going to be so easily discovered, and those two bunglers may do a great deal of harm. Good-bye, Maida, keep up a good heart, my girl.” The group on the veranda said good-bye to Sam Appleby, and he turned back as he stepped into the car to say: “I’ll be back as soon as the funeral is over, and until then, be careful what you say—all of you.” He looked seriously at Maida, but his glance turned toward the den where Mr. Wheeler sat in solitude. “I heard him,” stormed Burdon, as the car drove away, and the detective came around the corner of the veranda. “I heard what he said about me and Hallen. Well, we’ll show him! Of course, the reason he talks like that——” “Don’t tell us the reason just now,” interrupted Keefe. “We men will have a little session of our own, without the ladies present. There’s no call for their participation in our talk.” “That’s right,” said Allen. “Maida, you and Miss Lane run away, and we’ll go to the den for a chat.” “No, not there,” objected Burdon. “Come over and sit under the big sycamore.” And so, beneath the historic tree, the three men sat down for a serious talk. Hallen soon joined them, but he said little. “I’m leaving myself, soon after noon,” said Keefe. “I’ll be back in a day or two, but there are matters of importance connected with Mr. Appleby’s estate that must be looked after.” “I should think there must be!” exclaimed Burdon. “I don’t see how you can leave to come back very soon.”