if Harry Bartlett didn't do it who did?"

"I don't know," frankly replied the colonel. "That's what I'm going to
try to find out. So Miss Viola feels much sympathy for him, does she?"

"Yes. And she wants to go to see him at the jail. Of course I know
they don't exactly call it a jail, but that's what I call it!"

Miss Carwell was nothing if not determined in her language.

"Would you let her go if you were I - go to see him?" she asked.

"I don't see how you are going to prevent it," replied the colonel.
"Miss Viola is of legal age, and she seems to have a will of her own.
But I hardly believe that she will see Mr. Bartlett."

"Oh, but she said she was going to. That's one reason she made me come
home ahead of time, I believe. She says she's going to see him, and
what she says she'll do she generally does."

"However I don't believe she'll see him," went on the detective. "The
prosecutor has given orders since yesterday that no one except Mr.
Bartlett's legal adviser must communicate with him; so I don't believe
Miss Viola will be admitted."

This proved to be correct. Viola was very insistent, but to no avail.
The warden at the jail would not admit her to the witness rooms, where
Harry Bartlett paced up and down, wondering, wondering, and wondering.
And much of his wonder had to do with the girl who tried so hard to see
him.