"Why did you ever hide that stuff in Miss Katherine's room?" Bobby asked.
Jenkins flung up his hands.
"Oh, he was angry, sir, when he knew the truth and learned what a mistake he'd made. Howells didn't give me that report I showed you. It was in his pocket with the other things. We got it open without tearing the envelope and Mr. Silas read it. He wouldn't destroy anything. He never dreamed of anybody's suspecting Miss Katherine, so he told me to hide the things in her bureau. I think he figured on using the evidence to put the blame on Mr. Robert in case it was the only way to save himself."
"Why did you show the report to me?" Bobby asked.
"I—I was afraid to take all that responsibility," the butler quavered.
"I figured if you were partly to blame it might go easier with me."
Paredes shrugged his shoulders.
"You were a good mate for Silas Blackburn," he sneered.
"Even now I don't see how that old scoundrel had the courage to show himself to-night," Rawlins said.
"That's the beautiful justice of the whole thing," Paredes answered, "for there was nothing else whatever for him to do. There never had been anything else for him to do since Miss Katherine had spoiled his scheme, since you all believed that it was he who had been murdered. He had to hide the truth or face the electric chair. If he disappeared he was infinitely worse off than though he had settled with his brother—a man without a home, without a name, without a penny."
Jenkins nodded.