"Theodore—more of Theodore," said Garrison. "From his point of view, and with all his suspicions concerning our relationship, it is a master-stroke. It renders our position exceedingly difficult."
"But—how could he have found out all these things?" gasped Dorothy.
"How could he know?"
"He has guessed very shrewdly, and he has doubtless pumped your stepbrother of all that he happened to know."
"What shall we do?" she repeated hopelessly. "We can't prove anything—just now—and what will happen when the will comes up for probate?"
"I'll land him in prison, if he doesn't pull out of it now," said Garrison, angered as much by Theodore's diabolical cleverness as he was by this premature publicity given to the story. "He has carried it all with a mighty high hand, assured of our fear to take the business into court. He has stirred up a fight that I don't propose to lose!—a fight that has roused all the red-hot Crusader of my being!"
"But—what shall we do? All the newspaper people will be digging at the case and doing their best to hunt up everyone concerned!"
"No reporters can be seen. If the fact leaks out that you are here, through anyone connected with the house, you must move at once, and change your name, letting no one but me know where you are."
She looked at him blankly. "Alone? Can't you help me, Jerold?"
"It is more important for me to hasten up country now than it was before," he answered. "I must work night and day to clear things up about the murder."
"But—if Foster should really be guilty?"