ill himself, exactly. He dragged on two months before
he died." Parvis emitted the statement as unemotionally as a gramophone
grinding out its "record."

"You mean that he tried to kill himself, and failed? And tried again?"

"Oh, he didn't have to try again," said Parvis, grimly.

They sat opposite each other in silence, he swinging his eye-glass
thoughtfully about his finger, she, motionless, her arms stretched along
her knees in an attitude of rigid tension.

"But if you knew all this," she began at length, hardly able to force
her voice above a whisper, "how is it that when I wrote you at the
time of my husband's disappearance you said you didn't understand his
letter?"

Parvis received this without perceptible discomfiture. "Why, I didn't
understand it--strictly speaking. And it wasn't the time to talk
about it, if I had. The Elwell business was settled when the suit was
withdrawn. Nothing I could have told you would have helped you to find
your husband."

Mary continued to scrutinize him. "Then why are you telling me now?"

Still Parvis did not hesitate. "Well, to begin with, I supposed you
knew more than you appear to--I mean about the circumstances of Elwell's
death. And then people are talking of it now; the whole matter's been
raked up again. And I thought, if you didn't know, you ought to."

She remained silent, and he continued: "You see, it's only come out
lately what a bad state Elwell's affairs were in. His wife's a proud
woman, and she fought on as long as she could, going out to work, and
taking sewing at home, when she got too sick--something with the heart,
I believe. But she had his bedridden mother to look after, and the
children, and she broke down under it, and finally had to ask for help.
That attracted attention to the case, and the papers took it up, and a
subscription was started. Everybody out there liked Bob Elwell, and most
of the prominent names in the place are down on the list, and people
began to wonder why--"

Parvis broke off to fumble in an inner pocket. "Here," he continued,
"here's an account of the whole thing from the 'Sentinel'--a little
sensational, of course. But I guess you'd better look it over."

He held out a newspaper to Mary, who unfolded it slowly, remembering,
as she did so, the evening when, in that same room, the perusal of
a clipping from the "Sentinel" had first shaken the depths of her
security.

As she opened the paper, her eyes, shrinking from the g