for wanting to go
out with Frank Woods."

"Reasons!" I sneered.

She went into the hall and I followed.

"Mary, I don't know what your reasons are, and I don't care. I'm not
going to have that man making love to you. Either you don't go out
with him, or I quit."

Mary turned and looked me straight in the eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Any girl who is Frank Woods' friend, after the mess he stirred up in
my family, isn't my friend."

Mary's face was white, but her little chin was set determinedly.

"That's just as you wish," she said, and ran up-stairs.

I picked up my hat and gloves and left the house.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE ANSWER

The coroner and I drove out to the bridge that afternoon and I must
admit I was mighty poor company. Mary's unreasonableness, her stupid
obstinacy, when she knew she was wrong and I was right, her willingness
to break our friendship at the first opportunity, gave me little room
to think of anything else.

That she should risk her reputation to run after that man was
inexplicable, but it was just like a woman. Show them a place they
must not go or a man they must not see and they will sacrifice life,
liberty and everybody else's happiness to satisfy their curiosity. It
has been true from Pandora to Pankhurst.

Well, if she could get along without me, I could get along without her.
I'm the easiest going person in the world, but when it comes to
allowing the girl you are practically engaged to, to make a fool of
herself over another man, I won't stand for it. I knew she would
probably come to me afterward and say she was sorry and she didn't
know, but I made up my mind that she would have to give me an awfully
good reason for her sudden interest in Frank Woods before I would
forgive her.

These thoughts held my attention all the way out. Now and again I
would be recalled from my gloom by some question from the coroner. He
was trying to solve the problem of who murdered Jim and I am sure he
must have thought it strange that I was so preoccupied.

As we neared the bridge, I noticed again how scant the vegetation was
on both sides of the road. Any one wishing to murder Jim would have
been able to see him coming for at least a half-mile. On the left of
the road was clay soil, sparsely covered with weeds and shrubs, while a
half-mile away could be seen the thirteenth hole of the country-club
golf links.

When we reached the crest of the hill leading dow