"May I enquire, sir, why you entrusted the matter to a third rate detective agency when there are such reputable concerns as the Pinkertons or—" began Mr. Carroll bitingly.
Mr. Wrandall held up his hand deprecatingly.
"We had an idea that an unheard of agency might accomplish more than one of the famous organisations."
"Well, you see what has come of it," growled the other.
"I was opposed to the reward, sir," declared Mr. Wrandall with some heat. "Not that I was content to give up the search, but because I felt sure that the guilty person would eventually reveal herself. They always do, sir. It is the fundamental principle of criminology. Soon or late they falter. My son Leslie is of a like opinion. He has declared all along that the mystery will be cleared up if we are quiescent. A guilty conscience takes its own way to relieve itself. If you keep prodding it with sharp sticks you encourage fear, and stealth, and all that sort of thing, without really getting anywhere in the end. Give a murderer a free rope and he'll hang himself, is my belief. Threaten him with that self-same rope, and he'll pay more attention to dread than to conscience, and your ends are defeated."
Sara was inwardly nervous. She stole a glance at the white, emotionless face of the girl across the table, and was filled with apprehension.
"Can you be sure, Mr. Wrandall," she began earnestly, "that justice isn't the antidote for the poisonous thing we call a conscience? Suppose this woman to have been fully justified in doing what she did, does it follow that conscience can force her to admit, even to herself, that she is morally guilty of a crime against man? I doubt it, sir."
She was prepared for a subtle change in Hetty's countenance and was not surprised to see the light of hope steal back into her eyes.
"Fully justified?" murmured the old gentleman painfully.
"Perhaps we would better not go into that question too intimately," suggested Mr. Carroll.