"I see," remarked Byrd, "that you are presuming to understand Miss Dare after all."
"You call this woman a mystery," proceeded Byrd; "hint at great possibilities of acting on her part, and yet in a moment, as it were, profess yourself the reader of her inmost thoughts, and the interpreter of looks and expressions she has manifestly assumed to hide those thoughts."
Hickory's smile broadened into a laugh.
"Just so," he cried. "One's imbecility has to stop somewhere." Then, as he saw Byrd look grave, added: "I haven't a single fact at my command that isn't shared by you. My conclusions are different, that is all."
Horace Byrd did not answer. Perhaps if Hickory could have sounded his thoughts he would have discovered that their conclusions were not so far apart as he imagined.
"Hickory," Byrd at last demanded, "what do you propose to do with your conclusions?"
"I propose to wait and see if Mr. Orcutt proves his case. If he don't, I have nothing more to say; but if he does, I think I shall call the attention of Mr. Ferris to one question he has omitted to ask Miss Dare."
"And what is that?"
"Where she was on the morning of Mrs. Clemmens' murder. You remember you took some interest in that question yourself a while ago."