Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. Now do you see his motive?" "I see nothing but your danger," replied his mother, tenderly. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. It was from Brendon. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. "Something is sure to arise in the course of the investigation, of which I can take advantage.
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