“Move a sick man?—­a relative as low as you say he is?  Oh no, Mrs. Quintard; no one would do that, were the house a cabin and its owners paupers.”

“You do not know Carlos; you do not know his wife.  We should not be given a week in which to pack.  They have no children and they envy Clement who has.  Our only hope lies in discovering the paper which gives us the right to remain here in face of all opposition.  That or penury.  Now you know my trouble.”

“And it is trouble; one from which I shall make every effort to relieve you.  But first let me ask if you are not worrying unnecessarily about this missing document?  If it was drawn up by Mr. Brooks’s lawyer—­”

“But it was not,” that lady impetuously interrupted.  “His lawyer is Carlos’s near relative, and has never been told of the change in my brother’s intentions.  Clement (I am speaking now of my brother and not of my nephew) was a great money-getter, but when it came to standing up for his rights in domestic matters, he was more timid than a child.  He was subject to his wife while she lived, and when she was gone, to her relatives, who are all of a dominating character.  When he finally made up his mind to do us justice and eliminate Carlos, he went out of town—­I wish I could remember where—­and had this will drawn up by a stranger, whose name I cannot recall.”

Her shaking tones, her nervous manner betrayed a weakness equalling, if not surpassing, that of the brother who dared in secret what he had not strength to acknowledge openly, and it was with some hesitation Violet prepared to ask those definite questions which would elucidate the cause and manner of a loss seemingly so important.  She dreaded to hear some commonplace tale of inexcusable carelessness.  Something subtler than this—­the presence of some unsuspected agency opposed to young Clement’s interest; some partisan of Carlos; some secret undermining force in a house full of servants and dependants, seemed necessary for the development of so ordinary a situation into a drama justifying the exercise of her special powers.

“I think I understand now your exact position in the house, as well as the value of the paper which you say you have lost.  The next thing for me to hear is how you came to have charge of this paper, and under what circumstances you were led to mislay it.  Do you not feel quite ready to tell me?”

“Is—­is that necessary?” Mrs. Quintard faltered.

“Very,” replied Violet, watching her curiously.

“I didn’t expect—­that is, I hoped you would be able to point out, by some power we cannot of course explain, just the spot where the paper lies, without having to tell all that.  Some people can, you know.”

“Ah, I understand.  You regarded me as unfit for practical work, and so credited me with occult powers.  But that is where you made a mistake, Mrs. Quintard; I’m nothing if not practical.  And let me add, that I’m as secret as the grave concerning what my clients tell me.  If I am to be of any help to you, I must be made acquainted with every fact involved in the loss of this valuable paper.  Relate the whole circumstance or dismiss me from the case.  You can have done nothing more foolish or wrong than many—­”