some writing found in Uncle Benny's house in Astor Street—a list of names of relatives of people who had lost their lives upon the lake. Wassaquam knew where those things were. Alan says they were given to him in your presence."
She saw the blood rise darkly under his skin. "That is true, Connie."
"Why didn't you tell me about that?"
He straightened as if with anger. "Why should I? Because he thought that I should? What did he tell you about those lists?"
"I asked you, after you went back, if anything else had happened, Henry, and you said, 'nothing.' I should not have considered the finding of those lists 'nothing.'"
"Why not? What were they but names? What has he told you they were, Connie? What has he said to you?"
"Nothing—except that his father had kept them very secretly; but he's found out they were names of people who had relatives on the Miwaka!"
"What?"
Recalling how her blood had run when Alan had told her that, Henry's whiteness and the following suffusion of his face did not surprise her.
He turned away a moment and considered. "Where's Conrad now, Connie?"
"He's gone to Frankfort to cross to Manitowoc."
"To get deeper into that mess, I suppose. He'll only be sorry."
"Sorry?"
"I told that fellow long ago not to start stirring these matters up about Ben Corvet, and particularly I
