"I mean," he said, divining my thoughts, "that things may or may not be evidence according to the guilt or innocence of the suspect. If you find a little boy in the pantry beside an empty jampot, you suspect him of stealing jam. Now, if lots of other circumstances prove that child did take the jam, the empty pot is evidence. But, if circumstances develop that convince you the child did not have any jam whatever, that day, then the jampot is no evidence at all." "And you have found empty jampots?" I asked. "I have. But, so far, I'm not sure that they are condemnatory evidence. Though, in justice to my own work, I must add, that they have every appearance of being so." "You already like Vicky Van, then," I said, quickly, moved to do so, by a certain note of regret in his voice. "No man could help liking a woman who possesses her traits. She has delightful taste and tastes. She is most charitable, her accounts show sums wisely expended on worthy charities. And letters from friends prove her a truly loyal and lovable character." "Such a girl _couldn't_ kill a man!" I broke out. "Don't say that. There is no one incapable of crime. But such a nature would require very strong provocation and desperate conditions. These granted, it is by no means impossible. Now, I am through for to-day, but, if you please I will keep the key of the house. As the case is now in my hands, you will not object?" "No," I said, a little reluctantly. For suppose Vicky should give me another commission or ask me to perform another errand in the house. "You have a transparent face, Mr. Calhoun," and Fleming Stone smiled quizzically. "Why do you want to keep the key?" "My aunt is most desirous of seeing this house," I deliberately prevaricated, "and I thought--" But I didn't deceive the astute detective. "No, that isn't it," he said, quietly. "I'm not sure, but I think you are in touch with Miss Van Allen." "And if I am?" I flared up. "Very well," he returned, "it is, as you imply, none of my business. But I want to know your attitude, and if it is antagonistic to my work, I am sorry, but I will conduct my course accordingly." "Mr. Stone," I confessed, "I am not antagonistic, but I do know a little about Miss Van Allen's movements that I haven't told. I cannot see that it would assist you in any way to know it--" "That's enough," and Fleming Stone spoke heartily. "Your assurance of that is sufficient. Now, are we working together?" I hesitated. Then I suddenly thought of Ruth Schuyler. I owed her a business fealty, and somehow I liked to feel that I also owed her a personal allegiance, and both these demanded my efforts to avenge the death of her husband, irrespective of where the blow might fall. So I said, honestly, "We are, Mr. Stone. I will help you, if I can, and if at any time I think my withheld information will help you, I will make it known. Is that satisfactory?"