"It used to mean the mail," said she, smiling brightly for his benefit, "but now no man can tell what a day may bring forth," she quoted. "The letters _I_ most want would be coming from the east. What would you have coming from the west?" "Anything to bring me word of 'Tonio," he answered, adding, though not for her ear, "and take me out of this." She stepped to the gallery and frankly took his hand, looking kindly, gravely at him with her sweet blue eyes. "You are not doing well, Mr. Harris. You are fretting too much, I fear. Tell me. You believe in 'Tonio thoroughly, don't you? So did Captain Stannard, and so should I. Do you believe he would have tried to kill--Mr. Willett?" "Mrs. Stannard, I _know_ he would not!" "Then I wish to ask you--something--something else. Was there--_is_ there--any one who could--who would--_well_, who--had any reason?" For a moment he stood gazing at her, paler even than before, his stern young face full of strange emotion. "You have some reason for asking that, Mrs. Stannard," he said, almost below his breath. "You have heard--tell me; has he--has Willett told you anything?" "Nothing that connects any one with this crime, and yet, while I cannot tell you, and the doctor may not, I'll promise you this, Mr. Harris. If ever 'Tonio is accused and in danger, Mr. Willett has something to explain, and if he doesn't, then Dr. Bentley and I may have to." With that, almost abruptly, as though dreading further question, Mrs. Stannard turned away.