"Hush," Edith said softly. "He is Margery's fiancé, and she might hear you."
"How do you know?" Fred demanded. "Did she tell you?"
"Look at her engagement ring," Edith threw back triumphantly. "And it's a perfectly beautiful solitaire, too."
I caught Fred's eye on me, and the very speed with which he shifted his gaze made me uncomfortable. I made my escape as soon as I could, on the plea of going out to Bellwood, and in the hall up-stairs I met Margery.
"I saw Bella to-day," she said. "Mr. Knox, will you tell me why you stayed up last night? What happened in the house?"
"I—thought I heard some one in the library," I stammered, "but I found no one."
"Is that all the truth or only part of it?" she asked. "Why do men always evade issues with a woman?" Luckily, woman-like, she did not wait for a reply. She closed the nursery door and stood with her hand on the knob, looking down.
"I wonder what you believe about all this," she said. "Do you think my father—killed himself? You were there; you know. If some one would only tell me everything!"
It seemed to me it was her right to know. The boys were romping noisily in the nursery. Down-stairs Fred and Edith were having their Sunday afternoon discussion of what in the world had become of the money from Fred's latest book. Margery and I sat down on the stairs, and, as well as I could remember the details, I told her what had happened at the White Cat. She heard me through quietly.
"And so the police have given up the case!" she said despairingly. "And if they had not, Harry would have been arrested. Is there nothing I can do? Do I have to sit back with my hands folded?"