The Nether Millstone

by Fred M. White

"Precisely. The straw was dumped on the floor and then saturated with paraffin. If the straw was slightly damp, that would account for the dense quantity of smoke. The paraffin ran into little ripples over the floor, which accounts for the strange track of the flames. But we can ascertain that to a certainty."

A question or two being asked, it was discovered that a large can of petroleum was missing from one of the toolsheds. A little later the empty tin was discovered in one of the flower-beds. The discussion was at its height when Mary appeared. She looked very pale and shaky, otherwise she maintained her self-possession. But as she listened to the strange story it seemed to Ralph Darnley that she was disturbed about something. The pallor of her face became more marked, her eyes filled with something like fear. Did the girl know anything about it, Ralph asked himself? If not, why did she appear to be so strangely moved by the plain recital? The thought was ignoble and unworthy, but Ralph could not free himself from it altogether. He drew Mary a little apart from the rest; he could see that she was trembling with some strong emotion.

"The old house has had a very narrow escape," he began. "All Horace Mayfield's carefully prepared plans were very nearly in vain. If the house had been destroyed----"

"I--I did not look at it in that light," Mary stammered. "As you say, nothing could have mattered had the house perished. Where are those men now?"

"I don't know. It does not in the least matter. As things stand at present, the police will not permit anybody to be in the house except one or two like ourselves. Until their investigations are complete and they have gathered all their evidence, nobody will be permitted to sleep in the house. The men you speak of will be treated just like anybody else. It seems as if Fate were fighting on your side, Mary. You have no occasion to fear Horace Mayfield now."

Mary smiled faintly. It was evident that she was deeply troubled about something.

"I think I understand you," she said presently. "The loss of the house would have been a dreadful grief to me. But, still, these natural misfortunes happen to all of us, and I daresay I could have suffered the loss as well as most people. And the blow would have possessed many compensations. To be free from Horace Mayfield, ah!"

Mary finished her speech with a deep, long-drawn sigh. But the whiteness did not leave her face, the look of fear still lurked in her blue eyes. Ralph took a step forward and bent down so that he could whisper his words into Mary's ear.

"Your pride would have carried you through that," he said. "At the same time, your position had driven you almost to despair. You know more than you care to say, Mary, you know more than the rest of us how the fire came about. Can you look me in the face and deny it? Are you going to tell me the truth?"

Mary's face flamed with anger. She stepped back, and her passionate eyes flashed in Ralph's direction. He could see the crimson mounting to her temples.