“Of course, we do,” agreed Avice. “Just think, Mr. Pinckney, we know nothing but that my uncle was stabbed to death in the woods. We don’t even know why he went into the woods. Though that, of course, is probably a simple reason. He was a naturalist and went often on long tramps looking for certain specimens for his collections.”
“Yes, that would explain his being there,” said Pinckney, eagerly. “Did you know he was going?”
“No; on the contrary he said he would be home at five o’clock.”
“He told me he might be home earlier,” said Mrs. Black, looking sorrowful. “I expected him as early as three or four, for we were going out together. You see, Mr. Trowbridge was my fiancé.”
“Ah,” and Pinckney looked at her with increased interest. “Are there other members of this household?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Black. “Just Mr. Trowbridge and myself, and our dear niece, Miss Trowbridge. We were a very happy family, and now——” Mrs. Black raised her handkerchief to her eyes, “and now, I am all alone.”
“You two will not remain together, then?” the reportorial instinct cropped out.
“We haven’t decided on anything of that sort yet,” broke in Avice. “Eleanor, don’t be ridiculous! Mr. Pinckney is not interested in our domestic arrangements.”
“Indeed I am. The readers of The Gazette are all anxious to know the least details of your life and home.”
“They must be disappointed then,” and Avice’s haughty look forbade further personal questions.