do--what influence have I with him--" she was
beginning, but I broke in on her.

"Barbara, you and I are going to find the real murderer, before the
Cummings-Dykeman bunch discover a way into and out of that bolted study.
Those people want to see Worth in jail."

There was a long pause while she faced me, the rich color failing a
little in her cheeks.

"I see," speaking slowly, studying each word. "And as long as we didn't
find out how to enter and leave the study, we have no way of knowing how
hard or how easy it's going to be for them to find it out. We--" her
voice still lower--"we can't tell if they already know it or not."

"Yes we can," I leaned forward to say. "The minute they know
that--Worth Gilbert will be charged with murder."

I hit hard enough that time to bring blood, but she bled inwardly,
sitting there staring at me, quite pale, finally faltering,

"Well--I can't stop to think of his having followed Ina Vandeman
south--on her wedding trip--if he needs me--and I can help--I must--"
she broke down completely, and I sat there feeling big-footed and
blundering at this revelation of what it was that had put that clear,
logical mind of hers off the track, left her confused, groping, just a
girl, timid, distrustful of her own judgment where her heart was
concerned.

"Was that it all the time?" I asked. "Well, take it from me, Worth's
done nothing of the sort. He's been playing detective, not chasing off
after some other man's bride."

Up came the color to her cheeks, she reached that mite of a hand across
to shake on the bargain with,

"I'll go straight down this evening. You'll find me in Santa Ysobel when
you come, Mr. Boyne."

"At the Thornhills'?" It might be handy to have her there; but she shook
her head, looking a little self-conscious.

"I'm taking that spare room at Sarah Capehart's. Skeet wanted me, and I
have an invitation from Laura Bowman; but if--well, seeing that this
investigation is going to cover all that neighborhood, I thought I'd
rather be with Sarah."

The level-headed little thing! Pete and I had the pleasure of taking her
out to her home where she had her packing to attend to. On the way she
spoke of an engagement with Cummings for the theater Saturday night.

"And instead, I suppose I shall be at the carnival ball. Shall I tell
him that in my note, Mr. Boyne? Is it all right to let him know?"

"It's all right," I assented. "You can bet Cummings is due down there as
so