Spikeman, who had
served as Hardy's lawyer for many years.

The man was ill in bed, delirious, a condition which had lasted for
several days. Naturally no word concerning the Hardy affair had come
to his notice--hence his silence on the subject, a silence which
Garrison had not heretofore understood.

He could not be seen, and to see him would have been of no avail, since
his mind was temporarily deranged.

The utmost that Garrison could do was to go to the clerk at his office.
This man, a very fleshy person, decidedly English and punctilious, was
most reluctant to divulge what he was pleased to term the professional
secrets of the office.

Under pressure of flattery and a clever cross-examination, he at length
admitted that Mr. Hardy had drawn a will, within a week of his death,
that Mr. Spikeman had declared it perfect, and that he and another had
signed it as witnesses all in proper form. Concerning the contents of
the document he was absolutely dumb. No amount of questioning,
flattery, or persuasion would induce him to divulge so much as a word
of what he had witnessed.

Garrison gave up with one more inquiry:

"Was the will deposited here in Mr. Spikeman's vault?"

"No, sir," said the clerk; "Mr. Hardy took it with him when he went."

Garrison's hopes abruptly wilted.

CHAPTER XXX

OVERTURES FROM THE ENEMY

Leaving Spikeman's office, Garrison walked aimlessly away, reflecting
on the many complications so recently developed, together with the
factors in the case, and all its possibilities. He was shutting from
his mind, as far as possible, the thoughts of Fairfax, Dorothy's
husband, whose coming he had feared by intuition from the first.

The actual appearance of a husband on the scene had come as a shock,
despite his many warnings to himself. What could develop along that
particular line was more than he cared to conjecture. He felt himself
robbed, distracted, all but purposeless, yet knew he must still go on
with Dorothy's affairs, though the other man reap the reward.

Forcing his mind to the Hardy affair, he found himself standing as one
at the edge where things ought to be patent; nevertheless a fog was
there, obscuring all in mystery.

Some man had entered Hardy's room and tampered with Dorothy's cigars.
This did not necessarily absolve Charles Scott, the insurance
beneficiary, from suspicion, yet was all in his favor. The Hiram
Cleave was an unknown quantity. Unfortunately the