ibly, mystery
threatening your future, and all in connection with your great desire for
this money."

Hazen made a forcible gesture, but whether of denial or depreciation, it
was not easy to decide.

"Would it not then be better for all parties," pursued the lawyer, "for
you to give me some idea of the great obligation under which your sister
lay to this man, that I may have an answer ready when people ask me why
she passed you so conspicuously by, in order to enrich this stranger?"

"The story is not mine. Had she wished you to know it, she would have
confided it to you herself. I must decline--"

Mr. Harper interrupted the other impressively. "Do you realize what a
shadow may be thrown upon your sister's memory by this reticence on your
part? Her death was suggestive enough without the complications you
mention. In justice to your relationship you should speak. If, as I
think, the money is really meant for you, say so. The subterfuge may be
difficult of explanation, but it will not hurt her memory as much as this
extraordinary silence on your part."

"I am sorry," began Hazen. But Harper cut him short.

"You expect the money--you yourself," said he. "Nothing else would force
you into an attempt so perilous. You would risk death. Risk something
less final; risk your place in my esteem, your standing among men, and
confess the full truth about this matter. If it involves crime--why, I'm
a lawyer and can see you through better than you can win through by your
own misdirected efforts. The truth, my lad, the truth, nothing else will
serve you."

The look he received he will never forget.

"You are a man of limited experience, Mr. Harper," were the words which
accompanied it. "You would not understand the truth, Georgian or me.
Ransom might, but I shall not even risk Ransom's discretion. Now this
is all I am going to say about this matter. Georgian's last will and
testament, followed though it was by suicide, was a perfectly regular
one. The only impediment to its being so recognized and acted upon is the
doubt as to her actual decease. If the body of my poor young sister has
become lodged in the Devil's Cauldron, I am going there to seek it. As
the project calls for courage and, above all, a good condition of body
and mind, I shall be obliged to you if you will allow me the benefit of
the sleep I most certainly need. To-morrow I may have something more to
say to you, and I may not. Perhaps I shall want to make _my