detective. They both
turned, mum and startled looking, Edwards to his window, Vandeman to a
nervous brushing of his trouser edges, from which he looked up,
inquiring doubtfully,

"What next, Boyne? Jim's excited; but you understand that there's no
animus; and my wife and I are entirely at your disposal in this matter."

"Thank you," I said.

"Would you like to talk to her?"

"I would."

"When?"

"Now."

"Where?"

"Here--or let the lady say."

Vandeman gave me a queer look and went out. When he was gone, I found
Jim Edwards scrabbling for his hat where it had dropped over behind the
desk. I put my back against the door and asked,

"Is Bronson Vandeman a fatuous fool; or does he take me for one?"

"Some men defend their women one way, and some another. Let me out of
this, Boyne, before that girl gets here."

"She won't come in a hurry," I smiled. "Her husband's pretty free with
his promises; but more than likely I'll have to go after her if I want
her."

"Well?" he looked at me uncomfortably.

"Blackmail's a crime, you know, Edwards. A woman capable of it, might be
capable of murder."

"You've got the wrong word there, Boyne. This wasn't exactly blackmail."

"What, then?"

"The girl--I never liked her--never thought she was good enough for
Worth--but she was engaged to him, and--in this I think she was fighting
for her hand."

He searched my face and went on cautiously,

"You read the diaries. They must have had complaints of her."

"They had," I assented.

"Anything about money?"

I shook my head.

"You said there were two entries gone; the first would have told you, I
suppose--Before we go further, Boyne, let me make a little explanation
to you--for the girl's sake."

"Shoot," I said.

"It was this way," he sighed. "Thornhill, Ina's father, made fifteen or
twenty thousand a year I would say, and the family lived it up. He had a
stroke and died in a week's time. Left Mrs. Thornhill with her
daughters, her big house, her fine social position--and mighty little to
keep it up on. Ina is the eldest. She got the worst of it, because at
the first of her being a young lady she was used to having all the money
she wanted to spend. The twins were right on her heels; the thing for
her to do was to make a good marriage, and make it quick. But she got
engaged to Worth; then he went to France. There you were. He might never
come back. Tom always hated her; watched her like a hawk; got onto
somethi