t it just about then because I remember your looking
for it here. I thought that perhaps you might have seen somebody, had
some kind of suspicion. . . ."

"Well, I _was_, as a matter of fact, there that very afternoon. I walked
through the wood with Bunker--rather late. I met no one during the whole
of the time."

"No one?"

"No one."

"You have no suspicion?"

"No suspicion."

The boy relapsed from his eagerness into his heavy dreary indifference.
His lips were working. Olva seemed to catch the words--"Why should it be
I? Why should it be I?" Olva came over to him and placed his hand on his
shoulder.

"Look here, old man, I don't know what's the matter with you, but it's
plain enough that you've got this Carfax business on your nerves--drop
it. It does no good--it's the worst thing in the world to brood about.
Carfax is dead--if I could help you to find his murderer I would--but I
can't."

Craven's whole body was trembling under Olva's hand. Olva moved back to
his chair.

"Craven, listen to me. You _must_ listen to me." Then, speaking very
slowly he brought out-"I _have_ a right to speak to you--a great right.
I wish to marry your sister."

Craven started up from his chair.

"No, no," he cried. "You! Never, so long as I can prevent it."

"You have no right to say that," Olva answered him sternly, "until you
have given me your reasons. I don't know that she cares a pin about
me--I don't suppose that she does. But she will. I'm going to do my very
best to marry her."

Craven broke away to the middle of the room. His body was shaking with
passion and he flung out his hand as though to ward off Olva from him.

"You to marry my sister! My God, I will prevent it--I will tell her--"
He caught himself up suddenly.

"What will you tell her?"

Then Craven collapsed. He stood there, rocking on his feet, his hands
covering his face.

"It's all too awful," he moaned. "It's all too awful."

For a wonderful moment Olva felt that he was about to tell Craven
everything. A flood of words rose to his lips--he seemed, for an
instant, to be rising with a great joyous freedom, as did Christian when
he had dropped his burden, to a new honesty, a high deliverance.

Then he remembered Margaret Craven.

"You take my advice, Craven, and get your nerves straight. They're in a
shocking condition."

Craven went to the door and turned.

"You can tell nothing?"

"Nothing."

"I will never rest until I know who murder