“Yes, I have thought of that,” returned Viola, and her shrinking form and the haunted look in her eyes told what an ordeal it was for her. “I leave it all to you, Colonel Ashley. Father often spoke of you, and he often said, if ever he had any mystery to clear up, that you were the only man he would trust. Now that I am alone I must trust you,” and she smiled at the colonel. It was something of her former smile—a look that had turned many a man's head, some even as settled in life and years as Colonel Ashley.
“Well, I'll do my best for the sake of you and your father,” replied the detective. “I don't mind saying that I hoped I was done with all mystery cases, but fate seems to be against me.
“Mind, I am not complaining!” he said quickly, as he saw Viola about to protest. “It's just my luck. And I can't promise you anything. From what Mr. Bartlett told me, there seem to be very few suspicious circumstances connected with the case.”
“I realize that,” answered Viola. “And that makes it all the stranger. But tell me, Colonel, haven't you often found that the cases which, at first, seemed perfectly plain and simple, afterward turned out to be the most mysterious?”
“Jove, but that's true!” exclaimed the former soldier. “You spoke the truth then, Miss Viola. My friend Izaak never put a statement more plainly. And that's the theory I always go on. Now then, let me have all the facts in your possession. And you too,” he added, turning to Bartlett. “You might remain while Miss Carwell talks to me, and you can add anything she may forget, while she can do the same in your case. I suppose you know there is to be a coroner's inquest?” he added to the girl.
“Yes,” she answered. “I have received a subpoena. I think it is well to have it, for it will show the public how mistaken a verdict arrived at when all the facts are not known may be. I shall attend.”
“I just received a summons,” said Bartlett, and he seemed to breathe more easily.
“Shag—Where's that black boy of mine?” exclaimed the colonel.
“I sent him to the servants' quarters,” said Miss Mary Carwell, coming in just then. “How do you do, Colonel Ashley. I don't know whether you remember me, but—”
“Indeed I do. And I remember that the last time I dined with you we had chicken and waffles that—well, the taste lingers yet!” and the colonel bowed gallantly, which seemed to please Miss Carwell very much indeed. “So you have looked after Shag, have you?”