“You can talk straight,” Hulton resumed.  “I guess I won’t be shocked.”

“Very well.  I did find him disturbed once or twice.  Perhaps you knew he had some difficulties in Paris.”

“I knew about the girl,” Hulton answered grimly.  “I found that out not long since; she was a clever adventuress.  But I don’t know where Fred got the money he sent her.  Did you lend it him?”

“I lent him some,” Featherstone admitted, hesitatingly.  “He told me afterwards she had promised to make no further claim, and I understand she kept her word.”

Hulton turned to the treasurer.  “You will see Mr. Featherstone about this to-morrow.  I’ve cleared up another point; Fred was not being urged to send more money.”  Then he asked Foster:  “Do you know if he had any other dangerous friends?”

“There was Daly.  They were friends, in a way, and I wouldn’t trust the fellow.  Still, I don’t know how far his influence went, and imagine Fred hadn’t much to do with him for some months.  Besides, Daly wasn’t at the Crossing when——­”

Hulton said nothing for the next few moments and Foster mused.  Fred Hulton had been very likable, in spite of certain weaknesses, and he thought it cost his father something to talk about him as he did.  Hulton, however, seldom showed what he felt and would, no doubt, take the line he thought best with a stoic disregard of the pain it might cause.  He rested his elbow on the table, as if he were tired, and sat very quiet with his chin on his hand, until he asked Featherstone: 

“Why did you lend Fred the money he sent the girl?”

“For one thing, because he was my friend,” Featherstone answered with a flush.  “Then I knew into what straits the need of money can drive a young man.  I got into trouble myself some years ago.”

Hulton nodded.  “Thank you.  You helped him out.  You have no ground to think he was embarrassed by the need of money on the night he died?”

“I feel sure he was not.  He kept me some time talking cheerfully about a hunting trip we meant to make.”

“Well,” said Hulton quietly, “you’re going to be surprised now.  I did not give my evidence as frankly as you claim to have done, but kept something back.  Mr. Percival was away for two or three weeks, and Fred was the only person besides myself who knew the combination that opens the safe.  On the morning after we found him dead I examined the safe.  A number of bonds and a wad of small bills for wages had gone.  It was significant that Percival was due back next day.”

Featherstone started, but his face was hot with scornful anger.

“That had no significance!  I’d as soon suspect myself or my partner of stealing the bonds, but the safe’s being open throws a new light upon the thing.  Somebody you haven’t thought of yet knew or found out the combination.”

“Then, in face of what you have heard, you do not believe my son fired the shot that took his life?”