"Then kindly give me your undivided attention for a moment," the Owl said earnestly, at the same time peering into my eyes with that air of mystery which so puzzled me. "Perhaps it will not surprise you to know that in this matter of the death of Reginald Thorne there are several interests at stake, and the most searching and secret inquiries have been made on behalf of the young man's friends by detectives sent from London, and from New York. These inquiries have established one or two curious facts, but so far from elucidating the mystery, they have only tended to render it more inscrutable. As I have already said, the person actually responsible for the crime is no ordinary murderer, and notwithstanding the fact that some of the shrewdest and most experienced detectives have been at work, they can discover nothing. You follow me?"
"Perfectly."
"Then I will proceed further. Has it ever occurred to you that you might, if you so desired, become the wife of old Benjamin Keppel?"
"I really don't see what that has to do with the matter under discussion," I said, with quick indignation.
"Then you admit that old Mr. Keppel is among your admirers?"
"I admit nothing," I responded. "I see no reason why you, a perfect stranger, should intrude upon my private affairs in this manner."
"The intrusion is for your own safety," he answered ambiguously.
"And what need I fear, pray? You spoke of some extraordinary warning, I believe."
"True, I wish to warn you," said the man in strange disguise. "I came here to-night at considerable risk to do so."
I hesitated. Then, after a few moments of reflection, I resolved upon making a bold shot.