"She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. What it is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because we were, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know now that it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, has chucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I—"
"Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what has become of Heneage?"
"He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hot to solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of the country. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. He looked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, or something of the sort."
"Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked.
"I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just as changed as his appearance."
The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out, and he forgot to relight it.
"Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the Morris Barnes affair at all?"
"He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that he had discovered a little more than he wanted to."
The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar.
"You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving the mystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?"