“Other facts I have found are of significance,” he went on. “I have located Mr. Isaac A. Postle, and learned from him two startling things. First that he encountered John Graham at the gate on the night of the murder--collided with him, he declares, as he was running from the masked men who had just galloped past his cottage.” The girl smothered a cry. “He also says that later in the evening, just before the murder occurred, he passed by the front door and saw John Graham seated on a rustic bench in the shadows watching the house.” “It’s horrible--it’s horrible!” Stella murmured. “The two statements contradict each other. Uncle Isaac is lying at some point of his story. If he ran for his life from the masqueraders he certainly would not have returned to the house in thirty minutes while they were still there. Until I can find the motive for that lie his story must be taken with a large grain of salt. In the meantime if you can confirm for me his statement that Graham was here on that night you will do me a service.” “Within a week I’ll tell you,” she replied, the strange cold light flashing again from her eyes. CHAPTER IX--A TEST OF STRENGTH IN TAKING leave of Ackerman Stella went immediately to her room to select her dress and plan her campaign for John Graham’s reception in the evening. A feeling of reaction depressed her. The passionate warmth and tenderness of his love remained a haunting memory. A sense of loneliness crept into her heart. She began to see that she was playing a desperate game with the great stake of a human life as the issue. The consciousness of its possible tragedy began to be dimly felt. She sat staring idly at the gowns she had piled on the big tester bed without being able to make a selection. “I’ve begun a daring task,” she mused. “The wit and beauty of a girl of twenty against the iron will and personality of a man of genius. A man just entering his thirtieth year, who has looked Death in the face on the field of battle and dared defy the power of the Government that has crushed him. Can I win?” The closer she had drawn to John Graham in their intimate daily association the more impossible seemed the idea that such a man could have murdered her father or known of such a crime. And yet the closer each day drew the net of circumstantial evidence about him and the fiercer grew her determination to demand the life of the murderer. What had surprised her most of all in his character was the spirit of eternal youth within him--youth strong, fresh, buoyant and throbbing with poetic ideals. At first she had thought him sombre and morose, yet in his presence she could never imagine him more than twenty years of age. In many of his little ways and moods she found him more boy than man. And she must acknowledge the truth--she had begun to think of his possible death as a criminal with a pang of regret. She rose and studied her beautiful figure in her mirror until self and pride once more filled the universe.