Her lips twitched a little. He fancied hope in her eyes.
"If I could only cry!" she said. "At any rate that would be better for his memory, wouldn't it? You suspect this woman?"
"If you are able," Garth said, "I would like you to tell me something about her."
"I have never seen her," she answered. "She came after I went west. McDonald had a good deal of influence over Mr. Taylor, and I never quite trusted him. There's no use. You might as well know the truth about Mr. Taylor and me. You've probably heard. We were never quite happy. He was so much older. We never quite belonged to each other. But that is all. It isn't true all this gossip that I went west for a divorce, and I don't believe he was the man to kill himself. If there has been a crime against him I want the world to know it. I want his memory clean."
Quickly the man Reed touched her shoulder. For the first time since entering the room he spoke. His voice possessed a peculiar, aggressive resonance.
"Helen, you shouldn't take this man's suspicion that he was murdered too seriously."
Garth motioned him to silence.
"At such a time," he said to Mrs. Taylor, "I dislike to bother you, but I'd like to ask one or two questions. Your mother? Her mind?"
He caught a flash of pain across her white face.
"She has always been peculiar," she answered, "but she isn't out of her head, if that's what you
