“I don’t want him to! I don’t want the criminal found! I want it to be an unsolved mystery, always and forever!”
“No;” Elliott spoke more firmly. “No, Eunice, that is not what you want.”
“Stop! I know what I want—without your telling me! You overstep your privileges, Mason! I’m not an imbecile, to be ignored, set aside, overruled! I won’t stand it! Mr. Stone, you are discharged!”
She stood, pointing to the door with a gesture that would have been melodramatic, had she not been so desperately in earnest. The soft black sleeve fell away from her soft white arm, and her out-stretched hand was steady and unwavering as she stood silent, but quivering with suppressed rage.
“Eunice,” and going to her, Elliott took the cold white hand in his own. “Eunice,” he said, and no more, but his eyes looked deeply into hers.
She gazed steadily for a moment, and then her face softened, and she turned aside, and sank wearily into a chair.
“Do as you like,” she said, in a low murmur. “I’ll leave it to you, Mason. Let Mr. Stone go ahead.”
“Yes, go ahead, Mr. Stone,” said Aunt Abby, eagerly. “I’ll show you anywhere you want to go—anything you want to see I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Why, do you know anything I haven’t been told, Miss Ames? I thought we had pretty well sized up the situation.”
“Yes, but I can tell you something that nobody else will listen to, and I think you will.”