“That I cannot tell,” gravely replied Robles. Then he smiled faintly. “But an amazingly stupid blunder has been made. By some combination of circumstances suspicion is being fastened on our dear friend Dick Willoughby.”
“Dick!” exclaimed Merle. “Who dares to suggest such a thing?” she added indignantly.
“I infer that Mr. Thurston is his accuser,” replied Robles.
“The two young men quarreled,” murmured Mrs. Darlington, in a voice of deep agitation.
“Mother!” cried Merle reprovingly. “Even to think for one moment that Dick, whatever the provocation, could have done such a thing! He is absolutely innocent, Mr. Robles,” she went on decisively, again turning to their visitor.
“Of course he is innocent—absolutely innocent. No one knows that better than myself.” And he gave an enigmatic smile as he spoke the words of reassuring confidence.
“Where is Mr. Willoughby now?” queried Grace.
“He has been compelled to go to Bakersfield.”
“To Bakersfield?” exclaimed Merle, half wonderingly.
“There to prove his innocence,” replied Robles.