here and select others."

"There is only one fact which opposes your theory," I acknowledged,
"otherwise I would accept it as my own also. Coombs plainly threatened
to confront you with Henley to test your claim to being his wife."

She pressed her hand to her temple in perplexity.

"Even that would not be impossible," she admitted reluctantly, "for he
must have known of the Judge's death even before--before I left. Only
I do not believe it probable, as he was in no condition to travel, and
had very little money. Besides," her voice strengthening with
conviction, "those men who sent you here--Neale and Vail--would never
have ventured such a scheme, had they been uncertain as to Philip
Henley's helplessness. I believe he is either in their control, or
else dead."

"Then Coombs lied."

"Perhaps; although still another supposition is possible. Someone else
may claim to be the heir."

This was a new theory, and one not so unreasonable as it appeared at
first thought. Still it was sufficiently improbable, so that I
dismissed it without much consideration. She apparently read this in
my face.

"It is all groping in the dark until we learn more," she went on
slowly. "Have you decided what you mean to do?"