quired. "Had there been any trouble between you and Richard?"

"Not the slightest," was the emphatic response. "Personally I should be glad to see Dick take what seems to be his logical position in the Company, and I should be willing to work with him if I could. But the fact remains that we differ so radically in our ideas of conducting a business that our relations would be intolerable. I see nothing but failure ahead if his ideas were permitted to dominate, and of course I couldn't afford to injure my personal reputation by becoming part of a failure, even though I was in no way responsible for it."

"I am sorry to have you oppose me in this," Stewart said frankly; "my heart is set on it."

"Aren't we crossing our bridge before we come to it?” Treadway asked. "There is no question whatever that Richard shot his father. The only possible escape for him is through a plea of insanity, and if that prevails he will of course prefer to live anywhere rather than in Norcross. Whichever way the trial results, it seems to me that the facts themselves preclude the remotest possibility of his returning here."

"You may be right," Stewart admitted reluctantly, "but I fervently hope that you are not. Nothing but his own admission will ever convince me that Richard Norton is the guilty man."

"I fear your faith is based too much on Lola's confidence, Mr. Stewart; but the unfortunate facts remain." "There are no facts as yet . . . beyond the murder itself. The evidence is purely circumstantial. . .”

"You forget the gun. . ."

"But no one actually saw Richard use it . . I understand that from a strategic position any one of four of you might have used it."

"I saw him fire the shot, Mr. Stewart!"

The older man started violently.

"You told me, in Lola's presence, that you did not see the shot fired."

Treadway regarded him steadily for a moment.

"I also made the same statement in my testimony before the Grand Jury," he said calmly.

"You perjured yourself..."

"You would have done the same under similar circumstances. Richard Norton has been my friend. His father was my benefactor. The situation is desperate enough for Dick at best. Until now, I have kept my own counsel, for with the truth once shared by any one, the danger to Richard is increased. But I know that it is safe with you. I have told you in order to save you unnecessary embarrassment later, and to impress you with the importance of entering a plea of temporary insanity."

Stewart was staggered, and he glanced nervously around as if seeking some avenue of escape from the damning testimony he had just heard.

"I may have to make this statement at the trial," Treadway continued; "but I hope not. I am not afraid of suffering from perjury charges. Every one knows of my peculiar relation to the Norton family, and will appreciate the fact that I tried to protect my friend. If Richard's guilt is admitted, and his temporary irre

sponsibility established, it will be the best solution for all concerned."

"Of course Richard's counsel must know this. You are not binding me to secrecy to that extent?"

"No," Treadway replied, seeming to hesitate for a moment; . . “he should have all the facts in his possession, of course. I should think that what I have just told you would influence his attitude. I will even talk the matter over with him if you think it wise."

"I cannot believe what you tell me, Treadway. It isn't that I question your words, but rather your eyesight. I start with the hypothesis that Richard is innocent, so you may very properly say that I am prejudiced... Have you ever listened to the contradictory statements made by equally conscientious witnesses of an automobile accident ?"

Treadway shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not trying to convict Richard," he explained. "I wish the burden of testimony might be removed from me to some one less intimately associated with the family. But I was present at the time, I saw what I did see, I am held as a material witness, and I must answer the questions that are put to me.”

of course "Stewart agreed.

"Of course "I understand all that . . . and I'm not sure that I wholly approve of your perjuring yourself before the Grand Jury, still your loyalty to the Norton family does you credit. I have not recovered yet from the shock you gave me, but the lawyer will know what is best to do. If Richard actually shot his father, he debut no, Treadway, I will not believe it!

serves

In all that confusion you were deceived, and the fact that it was Richard's gun confirmed you in your false impression . . . But we'll drop the matter of the boy's relation to the business until the truth is established."

CHAPTER XXIII

W

I

HEN TREADWAY assumed charge of James Norton's private office he discovered several papers the existence of which had previously been unknown to him. The one which proved to be of greatest interest to him personally was a codicil to his chief's will which canceled the original bequest of all his property to his son, leaving him only the house on the Hill and a legacy of ten thousand dollars. Treadway had always hoped that this might be the outcome of Norton's quarrel with Richard, but as no such suggestion had ever been made, it was a happy surprise to find himself named as a beneficiary to the extent of the old man's holdings in the Company and in the bank.

The realization which came to Treadway of the power and position this wealth would give him was almost overwhelming; but why had the codicil never been delivered to the executors? Norton had evidently caused it to be drawn immediately after Richard left home, but for some reason had postponed placing it with his will. Had this been due to a lingering affection for the boy, a hope of reconciliation in spite of their differences; had Norton been too occupied with other matters, or was