"All the same, I don't believe in it," and Hendricks shook his
head obstinately. "There is no such thing as telepathy, and this
'willing' business has all been exposed years ago."

"I remember," and Aunt Abby nodded; "you mean that Bishop man and
all that. But this affair it quite different. You don't believe
Mr. Mortimer was a party to deceit, do you?"

"No, I don't. Mortimer is a judge and a most honest man,
besides. He wouldn't stoop to trickery in a thing of this sort.
But he has been himself deceived."

"Then how was it done?" cried Eunice, triumphantly; "for no one
else knew where the knife was hidden, except that newspaper man
who hid it, and he was sincere, of course, or there'd be no sense
in the whole thing."

"I know that. Yes, the newspaper people were hoodwinked, too."

"Then what happened?" Eunice persisted. "There's no possible
explanation but telepathy. Is there, now?"

"I don't know of any," Hendricks was forced to admit. "After the
excitement blows over a little, I'll try to speak with Mortimer
again. I'd like to know his opinion."

They sat in the car, looking at the hilarious crowds of people,
most of whom seemed imbued with a wild desire to get to the hero
of the hour and demand his secret.