."

"You are inconsistent, Babs," chided Kent gently. "One moment you
reproach yourself for being the cause of bringing on Jimmie's heart
attack, and the next you declare you believe he died through foul play.
You," looking at her tenderly, while a whimsical smile softened his
stern mouth, "don't go so far as to claim you murdered him, do you?"

"Of course I didn't!" Barbara spoke with indignant emphasis, and
her fingers snapped in uncontrollable nervousness. "Jimmie was very
dear"--she hesitated--"to us. Neither Helen nor I can leave a stone
unturned until we know without a shadow of a doubt what killed him."

"That is easily proven," declared Kent. "An autopsy--"

"Helen asked the coroner to hold one."

Kent stared--the twins were certainly in earnest.

"My advice to you is to wait until you hear the result of the
post-mortem from Coroner Penfield," he said gravely. "Until we know
definitely what killed Jimmie, speculation is idle."

Barbara rose at once. "I thought you would be more sympathetic," she
remarked, and her voice was a bit unsteady. "I am sorry to have troubled
you."

In an instant Kent was by her side. "Barbara," he entreated. "I promise
solemnly to aid you in every possible way. My only happiness is in
serving you," his voice was very tender. "I slave here day in and day
out that I may sometime be able to make a home for you. Don't leave me
in anger."

"I was not angry, only deeply hurt," Barbara confessed. "I have so
longed to see you. I--I needed you! I--" The rest was lost as she bowed
her head against Kent's broad shoulder, and his impassioned whispers of
devotion brought solace to her troubled spirit.

"I must go," declared Barbara ten minutes later. "Father would make a
fearful scene if he knew I had been here to see you." She picked up her
hand-bag, preparatory to leaving. "Then I can tell Helen that you will
aid us?"

"Yes." Kent stopped on his way to the door. "I will try and see the
coroner this afternoon. In the meantime, Babs, can't you tell me what
makes you suspect that Jimmie might have been killed?"

"I have nothing tangible to go on," she admitted. "Only a woman's
instinct--"

Kent did not smile. "Instinct," he repeated thoughtfully. "Well, does
your instinct hazard a guess as to the weapon, the opportunity, and the
motive for such a crime? Jimmie Turnbull hadn't an enemy in the world."

Barbara looked at him oddly. "Suppose you find the answer to those
conundrums," she