for you. Don't leave me in anger."

"I was not angry, only deeply hurt," Barbara confessed. "I have so
longed to see you. I - I needed you! I -" The rest was lost as she
bowed her head against Kent's broad shoulder, and his impassioned
whispers of devotion brought solace to her troubled spirit.

"I must go," declared Barbara ten minutes later. "Father would make
a fearful scene if he knew I had been here to see you." She picked
up her hand-bag, preparatory to leaving. "Then I can tell Helen
that you will aid us?"

"Yes." Kent stopped on his way to the door. "I will try and see
the coroner this afternoon. In the meantime, Babs, can't you tell
me what makes you suspect that Jimmie might have been killed?"

"I have nothing tangible to go on," she admitted. "Only a woman's
instinct -"

Kent did not smile. "Instinct," he repeated thoughtfully. "Well,
does your instinct hazard a guess as to the weapon, the opportunity,
and the motive for such a crime? Jimmie Turnbull hadn't an enemy
in the world."

Barbara looked at him oddly. "Suppose you find the answer to those
conundrums," she suggested. "Don't come to the elevator; Margaret
Brewster may see you with me, and she would tell father of our
meeting.