“There I can’t advise you. I have to get away now, but, as I said, I’ll return. I’ve more than a little taste for investigation myself, and when I come back, I’ve no doubt I can hel——” “But—Keefe—I don’t want you to help—to investigate—if it’s going to prove anything on any of the Wheelers.” “But you believe them innocent!” “Yes; but crime has been fastened on the innocent.” “Look here, Allen, you do believe them innocent—but you fear your belief is a mistaken one!” “God help me, I do fear that, Keefe! Oh, what can we do?” “It’s a bad lookout! All I can say now, is, to preserve a non-committal demeanor, and keep things stationary as much as you can. Maybe when I come back, we can—well, at least muddle things so——” “Complicate the evidence! So that it won’t indicate——” “Be careful now! You know what compounding a felony means, don’t you? Oh, Allen, you’re so young and impulsive, and the Wheelers are so emotional and indiscreet, I wonder what will happen before I get back!” “Somebody ought to be in charge here.” “Yes, some good lawyer, or some level-headed person who would hold back those fool detectives, and look out for the interests of the Wheelers.” “I wish you could stay.” “I wish so, too, but I’ll do all I can to return quickly. And Mr. Wheeler ought to be able to look after his own affairs!” “I know he ought to—but he isn’t. Also, I ought to, but I’m not!” “Yes you are, Jeffrey,” cried Maida, who had happened along in time to hear the young man’s depreciation of himself. “Hello, Maida,” he turned to her. “What did you mean by making up that string of falsehoods?” “Don’t talk about it, Jeff,” and the girl’s face went white. “If you do, I shall go mad!” “I don’t wonder, Miss Wheeler,” said Keefe, sympathetically. “Now, as I’ve just told Allen, I’m coming back as soon as I can make it, and until I do, won’t you try to hold off those men? Don’t let them pound you and your parents into admissions better left unmade. I’m not asking you any questions, I’ve no right to, but I beg of you to keep your own counsel. If you are shielding someone, say as little as possible. If you are guilty yourself, say nothing.” “‘Guilty herself!’ You’ve no right to say such a thing!” Allen cried out. “Of course I have,” Keefe returned, “when I heard Miss Wheeler avow the crime! But I must go now. Here’s the car. Good-bye, both of you, and—Miss Wheeler, if I may advise, don’t confide too much—in anybody.” The last words were spoken in an aside, and if Allen heard them he gave no sign. He bade Keefe good-bye with a preoccupied air, and as others joined them then, he waited till the car started, and then took Maida’s arm and led her away, toward the garden. Miss Lane, of course, went with Keefe, and as the girls parted Maida had suddenly felt a sense of loneliness. “I liked Genevieve a lot,” she said to Allen, as they walked away. “I didn’t,” he returned.