?"

"A short, middle-aged man," drawled Durgin deliberately. "I never saw
him but once."

"What was the cause of enmity between him and Hardy, do you know?"

"No, I don't. It went far back--a woman, I guess. But I hope you
won't ever say I told that it was. I promised I wouldn't, and I never
did till now."

The big fellow looked at Garrison with honest anxiety in his eyes.

"It's not my business to tell things," Garrison assured him. "This is
a matter perhaps of life and death for your brother. Do you think Mr.
Hardy feared this man Cleave would take his life?"

"He did, yes."

"Was it ever attempted before?"

Durgin looked at him oddly.

"I think so, but I couldn't be sure."

"You mean, Mr. Hardy told you a little about it, but, perhaps, not all?"

"How did you know that?" Durgin asked, mystified by Garrison's
swiftness of thinking.

"I don't know anything. I'm trying to find out. How much did Hardy
tell you of a former attempt on his life?"

"He didn't really tell it. He sort of let it out a little, and
wouldn't say anything more."

"But you knew it was this man Cleave?"

"Yes, he was the one."

Garrison questioned eagerly: "Where is he now?"

"I don't know."

"When was it that you saw the man?"

"A year ago."

"Where?"

"In the village--Rockdale," answered Durgin.

"Mr. Hardy pointed him out?"

"Yes, but how did you----"

"What was the color of his hair?" Garrison interrupted.

"He had his hat on. I didn't see his hair."

"What did your uncle say at the time?"

"Nothing much, just 'that's the man'--that's all," said the duck man.
"And he went away that night--I guess because Cleave turned around and
saw us in the store."

"All right," said Garrison. "Where's your brother now?"

"I don't know. We don't get on."

"Do you think he knew anything about Mr. Hardy's will?"

Durgin answered with a query: "Which one?"

"Why, the only one, I suppose," said Garrison. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there must have been more than one," drawled the duck man with
exasperating slowness. "Foster was down in the first, but that was
burned. I don't think he ever saw the others, but he knew he wasn't a
favorite any more."

"What about yourself?" asked Garrison.

"I asked Uncle John to leave me out. I've got enough," was the answer.
"We're no blood kin to the Hardys. I know I wasn't in the last."

"The last?" repeated Garrison. "You mean the last will of Mr.
Hardy--the one