"Well ... yes, I have." Roger hesitated for a moment. The theory he had formulated was not one which he cared to present. It would be scornfully rejected, he felt, before he had an opportunity to elaborate it. And, as a matter of fact, he was forced to admit, it was not a very explanatory theory at best. It needed explanation in itself. "Go on," said Molly. She had noted his pause and was the more expectant in consequence. "Well ... it's a funny thing--but this business has been in the air. I've noticed a different spirit around the office for a couple of weeks. You know Good was the idol of the boys on the staff. They were a little suspicious of him at first, I guess. He was too good to be true. Bassett has hinted as much. But that wore off. He proved he was no fake. They came to trust him absolutely. Then, all of a sudden, the whole thing seemed to change. I've noticed lots of queer little things lately. The boys have been pretty cool toward him. I've taxed several of them with it, but I couldn't get anything out of them. He's lost his hold on them. There isn't any doubt of that. He isn't the leader any more. He's done something--I don't know what--but it must have made the boys pretty sore. Anyway, they seem to have sent him to Coventry for it. I guess the poor chap got so discouraged he just had to quit. That's the way I figure it out." "Isn't that a shame," cried Molly. "Do you think he's to blame--has he really done something awful?" "Blessed if I know." Roger shook his head helplessly. "Knowing the man as I've known him, I can't believe it. But Bassett's one of the coldest of them all--and I'd trust Bassett to the limit. It certainly is a puzzle." He was silent for a moment. Then he added slowly, as if he were reluctant to put his thought into speech: "Of course Good's led a pretty hard life, you know. Maybe some of it came back on him--maybe he had a relapse. Liquor had him once. Maybe...." "Has Judith any explanation?" asked the Judge suddenly. "None that I know of." "Was she--surprised?" "Honestly, Judge, I don't know," said Roger candidly. "She acted mighty queer. First she seemed surprised, and then she didn't. For a minute I kind of thought she was--well--sore. But...." A picture flashed across his memory of Judith on the lounge, with the sobs shaking her shoulders. "... I guess it was disappointment. She thought the world of Good, you know." "Indeed, yes!" cried Molly. "I've often thought...." But she never finished saying what it was she thought. Her father rose abruptly. "I think if you young people will--er--excuse me...." His voice was strangely tremulous. "I'm a trifle tired." "Your father looks kind of knocked up over something," said Roger when the old man had left them. "Anything wrong?"