She had not seen her brother-in-law since the funeral. To Judge Kirtley's unspeakable indignation Mr. De Jarnette had not even returned to the house with her. At this lack of civility, to say nothing of brotherly kindness, she was surprised and hurt, but she clothed herself in her impenetrable garment of silence regarding it, and made no comment.
Judge Kirtley had not been so reticent. To his wife he had said with some heat,
"He is the most incomprehensible man I ever saw. I know he is undemonstrative by nature, but up to this time he really has not been lacking in substantial kindness to Margaret. I judge so from what she tells me—particularly when Victor first went away and she most needed help. But since his death, when one would have expected him to stand by her, he has stood aloof. I can't understand it. He certainly is not an emotional man, nor an impulsive one. There is something back of this."
"Can she have offended him by anything she has said? And still she has been so very reticent—"
"No," said the Judge, "it isn't that, I am sure. I have sometimes wondered if it could be—" he was patting his foot thoughtfully and talking more to himself than to her,—"that he had some suspicion that Victor's death was by his own hand—intentionally, I mean—and held Margaret responsible for it—as the result of their interview."
"And what that was we will never know," said his wife, with the tone of one airing a grievance.
"No, and never should," her husband responded, quickly. "She shows her sense there. I have wondered, I say, if he can hold such a thought as that against her. It is the only thing I can think of that would at all excuse his conduct."
"Didn't Victor make a dying statement that it was accidental?"
"Yes."
"A sworn statement?"