Instantly my eye fell upon these words:

SHOCKING MURDER

MR. LEAVENWORTH, THE WELL-KNOWN MILLIONAIRE, FOUND DEAD IN HIS ROOM

NO CLUE TO THE PERPETRATOR OF THE DEED

THE AWFUL CRIME COMMITTED WITH A PISTOL--EXTRAORDINARY FEATURES OF
THE AFFAIR

Ah! here at least was one comfort; her name was not yet mentioned
as that of a suspected party. But what might not the morrow bring? I
thought of Mr. Gryce's expressive look as he handed me that key, and
shuddered.

"She must be innocent; she cannot be otherwise," I reiterated to myself,
and then pausing, asked what warranty I had of this? Only her beautiful
face; only, only her beautiful face. Abashed, I dropped the newspaper,
and went down-stairs just as a telegraph boy arrived with a message from
Mr. Veeley. It was signed by the proprietor of the hotel at which Mr.
Veeley was then stopping and ran thus:

"WASHINGTON, D. C.

"MR. Everett Raymond--

"Mr. Veeley is lying at my house ill. Have not shown him telegram,
fearing results. Will do so as soon as advisable.

"Thomas Loworthy."

I went in musing. Why this sudden sensation of relief on my part? Could
it be that I had unconsciously been guilty of cherishing a latent dread
of my senior's return? Why, who else could know so well the secret
springs which governed this family? Who else could so effectually put me
upon the right track? Was it possible that I, Everett Raymond, hesitated
to know the truth in any case? No, that should never be said; and,
sitting down again, I drew out the memoranda I had made and, looking
them carefully over, wrote against No. 6 the word suspicious in good
round characters. There! do one could say, after that, I had allowed
myself to be blinded by a bewitching face from seeing what, in a woman
with no claims to comeliness, would be considered at once an almost
indubitable evidence of guilt.

And yet, after it was all done, I found myself repeating aloud as I
gazed at it: "If she declares herself innocent, I will believe her." So
completely are we the creatures of our own predilections.

XI. THE SUMMONS

"The pink of courtesy."
Romeo and Juliet.

THE morning papers contained a more detailed account of the murder than
those of the evening before; but, to my great relief, in none of them
was Eleanore's name mentioned in the connection I most dreaded.

The final paragraph in the _Times_ ran thus: "The detectives are upon
th