Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a brown study.

“I do and I don’t,” he said.  “Personally, I think both those young people are innocent, but if I am correct, no harm will be done by a further investigation of their movements on Tuesday night.  I think Mr. Hall ought to tell where he was that night, if only in self-defense.  If he proves he was in New York, and did not come out here, it will not only clear him, but also Florence.  For I think no one suspects her of anything more than collusion with him.”

Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told me confidentially about Mr. Hall’s possible occupation Tuesday evening.  They were determined to investigate that very question, and so, if her surmise were correct, it would disclose itself.

“Very well,” I said, after listening to a little further discussion, which was really nothing but repetition, “then I will consult with Mr. Parmalee, and we will try to make further investigation of Mr. Hall’s doings.  But I’m ready to admit that. it does not look easy to me to discover anything of importance.  Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and unless we have a definite charge against him it is difficult to make him talk.”

“Well, you can certainly learn something,” said Mr. Goodrich.  “At any rate devote a few days to the effort.  I have confidence in you, Mr. Burroughs, and I don’t think you need call in a man whom you consider your superior.  But if you’ll excuse me for making a suggestion, let me ask you to remember that a theory of Hall’s guilt also possibly implicates Miss Lloyd.  You will probably discover this for yourself, but don’t let your natural chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal element in this case, blind you to the facts.”

Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had noticed my personal interest in Florence Lloyd, and so, as it was my duty to disregard that interest in my work, I practically promised to remember his injunction.

It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind.  I felt sure Florence was innocent, but I knew appearances were strongly against her, and I feared I should bungle the case because of the very intensity of my desire not to.  And I thought that Fleming Stone, in spite of evidence, would be able to prove what I felt was the truth, that Florence was guiltless of all knowledge of or complicity in her uncle’s death.

However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged myself on, with the hope that further developments might clear Florence, even if they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall.

I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter, and methodically recording my conclusions.  And, while I thought, I became more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived or not, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually slain his employer because he had threatened to disinherit his niece.