DIVIDED AS SHE WAS among several opinions, torn by doubts and sufferings from grief, Viola Carwell found distinct relief in a message that awaited her on her return to the house after her failure to find Colonel Ashley. The message, given her by a maid, was to the effect:
“The safe man has come.”
“The who?” asked Viola, not at first understanding.
“The safe man. He said you sent for him to open a safe and—”
“Oh, yes, I understand, Jane. Where is he?”
“In the library, Miss Viola.”
Viola hastened to the room where so many fateful talks had taken place of late, and found there a quiet man, beside whose chair was a limp valise that rattled with a metallic jingle as his foot brushed against it when he arose on her entrance.
“Have you come from the safe company?” she asked.
“Yes. I under
