“I don’t know, Jeff; truly, I can’t tell. But much as I am bound by my principles of right, and you know, dear, I _am_ conscientious, I would willingly throw them all to the winds if they interfered with my parents’ happiness, well-being or safety.” “Let me get this straight, Maida. You would stifle your conscience, would act directly against its dictates for the sake of your parents?” “Yes, Jeffrey; right or wrong, that’s what I should do.” “Who am I that I should judge you, dear? I know well your lifelong submission to your conscience, even when your inclinations were strong the other way. Now, if you have thrown over principle, honor, conscience and right, for what you consider a stronger motive, I can only accept your decision. But I wish you would confide in me more fully. Do you mean in regard to Mr. Appleby?” “Of course I mean in regard to Mr. Appleby. And I’m going to ask you, Jeff, to believe what I tell you.” “Of course I’ll do that, Maida.” “No; you won’t want to. But I ask you to believe it implicitly and to act accordingly. Do you promise me this?” The girl’s face was turned to his, her great, sorrowful eyes were full of dumb agony and showed unshed tears, but her voice was clear and strong as of one whose purpose was unshakable. “Yes, dear,” and Jeffrey took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes, whose blank despair haunted him long after, “yes, Maida, I promise.” “Well, then, I killed Mr. Appleby, and you must do whatever you think best for us all. What shall we do first, Jeffrey?” And with the clutch of an icy dread at his heart, Allen replied, brokenly, “I don’t know, Maida, darling, but I will find out what is best, and we will do it——” CHAPTER X THE PHANTOM BUGLER The day after the funeral of Samuel Appleby, Keefe returned to Sycamore Ridge. “I came, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, “to offer you my services. I express no opinion as to who killed Mr. Appleby, but I do know that his son is going to use every means to discover his father’s murderer, and I can’t help thinking you’d be wise to let me take up your case.” “As a criminal lawyer?” asked Dan Wheeler, quietly. “No, sir; as a friend and adviser. If you find you need a criminal lawyer, I’ll suggest one—and a good one. But I mean, I’d like to help you in a general way, by consultation and advice. You, if you will pardon me, have lived so long out of the modern world that you are unfitted to cope with this whole situation. I speak frankly—because I am deeply interested——” “Just why are you so deeply interested, Mr. Keefe?” Wheeler’s tone was kindly but his glance was sharp at his would-be benefactor. “I may as well own up,” Keefe said, “I am hard hit by your daughter. Oh, yes, I know she is engaged to young Allen, and I’ve no hope she would ever throw him over for me, but I’m anxious to serve her in any way I can—and I feel pretty sure that I can be of help to you and your family.”