"And your father," said Eva, seeing he halted. Allen made a gesture of indifference. "My father doesn't care one way or the other, darling. You should know my father by this time. He is wrapped up in himself. Egotism is a disease with him." Eva twisted her hands together and frowned. "Allen, I really can't marry you," she said decisively; "think how my father was murdered!" "What has that to do with it?" demanded Allen almost fiercely. "Dear, how you frighten me. There's no need to scowl in that way. You have a temper, Allen, I can see." "It shall never be shown to you," he said fondly. "Come, Eva." But she still shook her head. "Allen, I had small cause to love my father, as you know. Still, he has been foully murdered: I have made up my mind to find out who killed him before I marry." Allen rose in spite of his weak ankle and flung away her hand. "Oh, Eva," he said roughly, "is that all you care for me? My happiness is to be settled in this vague way----" "Vague way----?" "Certainly!" cried Hill excitedly; "you may never learn who killed your father. There's not a scrap of evidence to show who shot him." "I may find Butsey," said Eva, looking obstinate. "You'll never find him; and even if you do, how do we know that he can tell?" "I am certain that he can tell much," said Miss Strode determinedly. "Think, Allen. He sent the telegram probably by order of my father's enemy. He came suddenly on those men at midnight when they were carrying the body. What was a child like that doing out so late, if he wasn't put up to mischief by some other person? And he knocked as happened in my dream, remember," she said, sinking her voice; "and then he came here with a lying message on the very day my father's wooden hand was stolen." "Do you think he stole it?" "Yes, I do; though why he should behave so I can't say. But I am quite sure that Butsey is acting on behalf of some other person--probably the man who killed my father." Allen shrugged his shoulders frowningly. "Perhaps Butsey killed Mr. Strode himself," he said; "he has all the precocity of a criminal." "We might even learn that," replied Eva, annoyed by Allen's tone; "but I am quite bent on searching for this boy and of learning who killed my father and why he was killed." "How will you set about it?" asked Allen sullenly. "I don't know. I have no money and no influence, and I am only a girl. But I'll learn the truth somehow."