I roused myself.
"I am not ill." And, pulling the papers towards me, I began looking them over. But the words danced before my eyes, and I was obliged to give up all attempt at work for that night.
"I fear I am unable to assist you this evening, Mr. Harwell. The fact is, I find it difficult to give proper attention to this business while the man who by a dastardly assassination has made it necessary goes unpunished."
The secretary in his turn pushed the papers aside, as if moved by a sudden distaste of them, but gave me no answer.
"You told me, when you first came to me with news of this fearful tragedy, that it was a mystery; but it is one which must be solved, Mr. Harwell; it is wearing out the lives of too many whom we love and respect."
The secretary gave me a look. "Miss Eleanore?" he murmured.
"And Miss Mary," I went on; "myself, you, and many others."
"You have manifested much interest in the matter from the beginning,"—he said, methodically dipping his pen into the ink.
I stared at him in amazement.
"And you," said I; "do you take no interest in that which involves not only the safety, but the happiness and honor, of the family in which you have dwelt so long?"
He looked at me with increased coldness. "I have no wish to discuss this subject. I believe I have before prayed you to spare me its introduction." And he arose.
"But I cannot consider your wishes in this regard,"
