Meantime, Braye and Norma were talking in like vein.
“I do believe it was a spirit that killed our dear Vernie, and Mr. Bruce,” Norma declared, “but if Mr. Wise can prove the contrary, we want him to do so, don’t we, Rudolph?”
“Of course, Norma, we all feel that way. I, especially, for as heir to Uncle Gif’s money, I’m in a peculiar position. But if anybody can get at the truth, this Wise person can. He’s a live wire, I can see that.”
“Shall we help him, Rudolph, or hold back and let him work alone?”
“Help him, of course! Why not? But, be careful that it is help we offer him, and not merely stupid interference.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing particular; but some of us are inclined to be a bit officious, and—oh, I don’t know, Norma,—I don’t want to say anything—even to you. Let’s talk of pleasanter subjects.”
“What, for instance?”
“You, for instance! You’re enchanting to-day, in that pale blue gown. It makes you look like an angel.”
“Do they wear pale blue?”