what you mean. If you don't mean that, say what you do!"
He shook his finger so close to her face that he struck her forehead and nose. She put up a hand and caught his wrist and tried to thrust his hand aside; but his arm was tense, and she could not. "Do you mean that?" he demanded, striking her face again with his finger.
"Yes!"
"Eh? So Kincheloe—and I had him do it—killed your Barney Loutrelle, you believe?"
"Yes."
He jerked his wrist out of her grasp and stepped back, looking down at her and laughing. Somehow she had immensely gratified him; she could not imagine by what perversion the fact could be but by accusing Kincheloe—and him—of making away with Barney Loutrelle, she had done just what her grandfather had desired.
He continued to laugh at her, and he laughed as she had never heard him, or any one else, laugh before. There was no amusement in his laugh; relief was there mingled with something else; but only the relief was recognizable.
"I must have Miss Platt hear you," he said, when he was through laughing. "And your grandmother." He stepped to the door and, opening it, called first for Miss Platt and then for his wife. Miss Platt appeared quickly, coming in with the impersonal, observant interest with which she replied to summons to take dictation. It seemed to Ethel, when she heard her grandmother descending the stairs, that her grandfather's wife was obeying him reluctantly; but she was obeying, as she always obeyed. When she entered the room, her eyes by habit sought his and found their in-
