"There is one here, Philip Carew, who would speak to you!"
Her thoughts flew, in their frantic circle, to the letter from London which had told Barney Loutrelle about her father and about the Rock and about her coming here and about that Bagley, never seen here before, who had come and—having had "enough"—had left. Enough of what?
She could guess; he was probably ignorant and superstitious and readily affected by the stories about Resurrection Rock. She would not permit herself again to become confused by superstitions, though all this did seem to have started with a message from her father, who was dead.
Her grandfather, who was living and very material, had long been afraid of that Rock; but not so much when the house remained empty as when Barney Loutrelle and Bagley went there. Her grandfather had endeavored to prevent the occupation of the house and, failing, had sent out Merrill Kincheloe and waited with loaded rifle as she had seen, until Kincheloe's late return.
But did she know that her grandfather had sent Kincheloe to do what he had done? Was she to believe that her grandfather even knew truly what Kincheloe did? No; he couldn't know; Kincheloe could not have confessed the whole fact to him. That must be the explanation!
This thought sent a leap in her pulses which made her almost happy for the instant before she realized that, however it might be, yet Barney Loutrelle was dead. Kincheloe, desiring money, thinking only in terms of money—much money, in these days—had done it; but her grandfather still might be innocent.
