"Before I go, I'd like to ask a favor of you, Mr. Granthope."
It almost comforted him. "What is it—of course, I'll do anything."
"Will you see if you can find out something about that little boy who lived with Madam Grant?"
There it was again! This blow turned his mind black. She was gazing at him earnestly—he could hardly bear her look, so placid, so sincere. "You mean—clairvoyantly?" he stammered.
"Yes. I think we might do it, together."
He rose to walk up and down the top of the bank for a few minutes. Once he stopped and gazed at her fiercely, under tensely set brows. Finally he returned hopelessly.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."
"Why not?"
He hesitated. "I know I couldn't get anything."
"But you did before?"