"But that was very strange conduct. You must have had strong reason for obeying Mary Leavenworth so blindly."
"Oh, sir," she gasped, "I thought I understood it all; that Mary, the bright young creature, who had stooped from her lofty position to make use of me and to love me, was in some way linked to the criminal, and that it would be better for me to remain in ignorance, do as I was bid, and trust all would come right. I did not reason about it; I only followed my impulse. I could n’t do otherwise; it is n’t my nature. When I am requested to do anything for a person I love, I cannot refuse."
"And you love Mary Leavenworth; a woman whom you yourself seem to consider capable of a great crime?"
"Oh, I did n’t say that; I don’t know as I thought that. She might be in some way connected with it, without being the actual perpetrator. She could never be that; she is too dainty."
"Mrs. Belden," I said, "what do you know of Mary Leavenworth which makes even that supposition possible?"
The white face of the woman before me flushed. "I scarcely know what to reply," she cried. "It is a long story, and"
"Never mind the long story," I interrupted. "Let me hear the one vital reason."
"Well," said she, "it is this; that Mary was in an emergency from which nothing but her uncle’s death could release her."
"Ah, how’s that?"
But here we were interrupted by the sound of steps on the porch, and, looking out, I saw Q entering the
