Confide in me,
and I pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you
could go to."
Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He
caught Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely.
"Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister.
When the Coroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a
witness. It's an ordeal--I'll tell you everything."
Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own
knowledge. Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any
possible enemy of the murdered man.
"There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay,
lately, but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't
harm any one. He inherited his money, you know. Didn't have to
crush the working people. Like me, he's been endeavoring to
spend it ever since he was born, but it comes in too fast from
our estates."
He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his
companion.
"It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison
offence to deceive about murder.
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