f the thin board partition; more disconcerted by the girl's
manner of receiving the information of how I had found the 1920 diary
hidden in Worth's bureau drawer. There was a swift, very personal anger
at me. I had to clear myself instantly and thoroughly of any suspicion
of believing for a moment that Worth himself had stolen or mutilated the
book, protesting,

"I don't--I don't! Listen, Barbara--be reasonable!"

"That means 'Barbara, be scared!' And I won't. When they're scared,
people make mistakes."

"You might see differently if you'd been there last night when Cummings
made his charge against Worth. That seventy two thousand dollars Worth
carried up to the city Monday morning, he had taken from his father's
safe the night before."

For a minute she just looked at me, and not even Worth Gilbert's
dare-devil eyes ever held a more inclusively defiant light than those
big, soft, dark ones of hers.

"Well--wasn't it his?"

"All right," I said shortly. "I'm not here to talk of Worth's financial
methods; they're scheduled to get him into trouble; but let that pass.
Look through this book and you'll see who it is I'm after."

She had already opened the volume, and began to glance along the pages.
She made a motion for me to wait. I leaned back in my chair, and it was
only a few moments later that she looked up to say,

"Don't make the arrest, Mr. Boyne. You have nothing here against
Eddie--for murder."

Because I doubted myself, I began to scold, winding up,

"All the same, if that gink hasn't jumped town, I'll arrest him."

"It would be a good deal more logical to arrest him if he had jumped the
town," Barbara reminded me. "If you really want to see him, Mr. Boyne,
you'll find him at the garage around on the highway. He's working for
Bill."

That was a set-back. A fleeing Eddie Hughes might have been hopeful; an
Eddie Hughes who gave his employer back-talk, got himself fired, and
then settled down within hand-reach, was not so good a bet. Barbara saw
how it hit me, and offered a suggestion.

"Mr. Boyne, Worth and I are taking a hike out to San Leandro canyon this
afternoon to get ferns for the decorating committee. Suppose you come
along--anyhow, a part of the way--and have a quiet talk, all alone with
us. Don't do anything until you have consulted Worth."

"All right--I'll go you," I assented, and half past two saw the three of
us, Worth in corduroys and puttees, Barbara with high boots and short,
dust