But he made a direct reply.
"Yes, I gave a look at that old picture; got up, as you say, on a
chair to do so. Wasn't that the freak of an idle man, wandering, he
hardly knows why, from room to room in an old and deserted house?"
His tormentor did not answer. Probably his mind was on his next
line of inquiry. But Mr. Jeffrey did not take his silence with the
calmness he had shown prior to the last attack. As no word came
from his unwelcome guest, he paused in his rapid pacing and,
casting aside with one impulsive gesture his hitherto imperfectly
held restraint, he cried out sharply:
"Why do you ask me these questions in tones of such suspicion? Is
it not plain enough that my wife took her own life under a
misapprehension of my state of mind toward her, that you should feel
it necessary to rake up these personal matters, which, however
interesting to the world at large, are of a painful nature to me?"
"Mr. Jeffrey," retorted the other, with a sudden grave assumption of
dignity not without its effect in a case of such serious import, "we
do nothing without purpose. We ask these questions and show this
interest because the charge of suicide which has hitherto been made
against your wife is not entirely sustained by the facts. At least
she was not alone when she took her life.
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