ou," she responded; her mouth set in
obstinate lines and before he could press his request a second time, she
asked: "Philip Rochester defended Jimmie in court when every one thought
him a burglar; why then, should Philip have picked him out to attack--he
is not a homicidal maniac?"

"No, but the police contend that Rochester recognized Jimmie in his
make-up and decided to kill him; hoping his death would be attributed to
angina pectoris, and no post-mortem held," wound up Kent.

"I don t quite understand"--Helen raised her handkerchief to her
forehead and removed a drop of moisture. "How did Philip kill Jimmie
there in court before us all?"

"Ferguson believes that he put the dose of aconitine in the glass of
water which Jimmie asked for," explained Kent, and would have continued
his remarks, but a scream from Barbara startled him.

"There, look at the window," she cried. "I saw a face peering in. Look
quick, Harry, look!"

Kent needed no second bidding, but although he craned his head far
outside the open window and gazed both up and down the street and along
the path to the kitchen door, he failed to see any one. "Was it a man or
woman?" he asked, turning back to the room.

"I--I couldn't tell; it was just a glimpse." Barbara stood resting one
hand on the table, her weight leaning upon it. Not for words would she
have had Kent know that her knees were shaking under her.

"Did you see the face, Helen?" As he put the question Kent looked around
at the silent girl in the corner; she had slipped back in her chair and,
with closed eyes, lay white-lipped and limp. With a leap Kent gained her
side and his hand sought her pulse.

"Ring for brandy and water," he directed as Barbara came to his aid.
"Helen has fainted."

Twenty minutes later Kent hastened out of the McIntyre house and,
turning into Connecticut Avenue, boarded a street car headed south.
After carrying Helen to the twins' sitting room he had assisted Barbara
in reviving her. He had wondered at the time why Barbara had not
summoned the servants, then concluded that neither sister wished a
scene. That Helen was worse than she would admit he appreciated, and
advised Barbara to send for Dr. Stone. The well-meant suggestion had
apparently fallen on deaf ears, for no physician had appeared during the
time he was in the house, nor had Barbara used the telephone, almost at
her elbow as she sat by her sister's couch, to summon Dr. Stone. Kent
had only waited l