observed quite frankly:

"You will consider these observations as confidential. You know
how to hold your tongue; that you have proved. Hold it then a
little longer. The case is not yet ripe. Mr. Jeffrey is a man
of high standing, with a hitherto unblemished reputation. It won't
do, my boy, to throw the doubt of so hideous a crime upon so fine
a gentleman without ample reason. That no such mistake may be made
and that he may have every opportunity for clearing himself, I am
going to have a confidential talk with him. Do you want to be
present?"

I flushed again; but this time from extreme satisfaction.

"I am obliged for your confidence," said I; then, with a burst of
courage born of his good nature, I inquired with due respect if my
little friend had answered his expectations. "Was she as clever as
I said?" I asked.

"Your little friend is a trump," was his blunt reply. "With what
we have learned through her and now through you, we can approach Mr.
Jeffrey to some purpose. It appears that, before leaving the house
on that Tuesday morning, he had an interview with his wife which
ought in some way to account for this tragedy. Perhaps he will tell
us about it, and perhaps he will explain how he came to wander
through the Moore house while his wife lay dying below. At all
events we will give him the opportunity to do so and, if possible,
to clear up mysteries which provoke the worst kind of conjecture.
It is time. The ideas advanced by the papers foster superstition;
and superstition is the devil. Go and tell my man out there that