one upon my own responsibility,"
replied the attorney.

"When were you last in these rooms, Mr. Scott?" asked Ralph
Mainwaring of the secretary, who had risen to his feet and was making
a careful survey of the room.

"About twelve o'clock last night, sir," was his reply; then noting a
look of surprise on the faces about him, he added,--

"I came at Mr. Mainwaring's request, as he wished to give directions
regarding some work to be done this morning."

"He was alone at that time?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did he appear?" inquired Mr. Thornton.

"The same as usual, except that he seemed very weary."

"Was he in this room?" asked Mr. Mainwaring.

"No, sir; he was seated in the library."

The sound of voices in the corridor attracted Mr. Mainwaring's
attention, and he turned quickly to his son,--

"Hugh, I hear your mother's voice; go and meet her. The ladies must
not be allowed to come in here."

Mr. Thornton turned to accompany young Mainwaring. Near the door he
met his daughter and Miss Carleton, while a little farther down the
corridor were Isabel Mainwaring and her mother. With terror-stricken
faces they gathered about him, unable to believe the terrible report
which they had learned from the servants. As best he could, he
answered their numerous inquiries, and, having escorted them to
another part of the house, left them in charge of young Mainwaring,
while he returned to the library.

Meanwhile, the news of the murder had spread with lightning-like
rapidity, and already crowds of people, drawn by that strange
fascination which always exists for a certain class in scenes of
this kind, were gathering on the grounds outside the house, forming
in little groups, conversing with the servants, or gazing upward
with awe-stricken glances at the closely-drawn shutters of the room
in the tower. The invisible barriers which so long had excluded
the public from Fair Oaks had been swept away by the hand of death,
and rich and poor, capitalist and laborer, alike wandered
unrestrained up and down the oak-lined avenue.

At the door of the library, Mr. Thornton found Ralph Mainwaring and
the attorney conversing together in low tones.

"Yes," Mr. Mainwaring was saying, "as you say, it is undoubtedly
murder; but I confess I am at a loss to understand the motive for
such a deed, unless it were robbery; and you do not seem to give
that idea much credence?"

Mr. Whitney shook his head decidedly. "Unless we find very s