"I called this morning to acquaint you with these things and to advise you on your future course. I must admit that I rather admire your steadfastness in following out what Allan Morris has desired of you; however, it is a great mistake for a strong nature to submit to the clamorings of a weaker one."
She sat suddenly erect; protest was in her eyes, and one hand went up in denial. But, though her lips opened as though she were about to speak, no words came; once more she sank back in the chair with the air of one compelled to admit a bitter truth.
"I am not so sure as to how deep Morris is in this murder," continued the investigator, "but I have some ideas on the subject. On the other hand I am quite sure that you are promised to aid him, and that you feel duty bound to do so to the end, according to his not very wise instructions."
He arose and stood looking down at her kindly.
"My advice to you," he went on—"and I speak with a fair knowledge of the facts—is that you do nothing more. Be content with what you have attempted; allow me to act for you in anything further which you have in mind. Or, if you cannot give me your confidence, let me carry the thing on in my own way, as you proposed at the first."
There was a pause of some length; then the girl spoke.
"I am just a trifle bewildered at all this," she said; "and I really cannot say, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, that I altogether follow you."
He smiled, but the disapproving wrinkle still showed between his eyes.
"I see that you are still determined to hold to your attitude," he said. "I am sorry, of course, but then one is called upon at times to do as one thinks best, and I suppose that is what you are doing." He turned toward the door, and she arose and touched the bell. "Good-by."
"Good-by," she returned.