"I hardly believe," said West thoughtfully, "you can attribute her state of mind to anything that occurred on that trip. Indeed she was in high spirits all the way home."
"I can't help that, sir," Sexton insisted blindly. "It was something that happened yesterday what set her wrong, an' if I was you, sir, I'd find out what happened in that house first of all. Could you find the place?"
"Yes, I think so. I'll look it up, although I don't have much faith in your theory." He glanced at his watch. "I'll go out there now. You come back here about five, and we will talk over any discoveries I may make."
"And what shall I do, sir?"
Both were standing, West with hand on the knob of the door. The light in his eyes hardened.
"Nothing occurs to me now, Sexton, unless you can find an excuse to return to Fairlawn, after something you have forgotten, let us say. If we can learn what Miss Natalie proposes doing it might furnish a clue."
"Very well, sir, and I am to be here at five o'clock?"
"Yes, at five; I will leave word with the doorman to show you in at once."
West picked up a taxi-cab for the trip, bidding the chauffeur to drive to a certain section of the city, and then up and down the various streets until told to stop. He had no idea that his quest would reveal anything of importance relative to the death of Coolidge, yet no better suggestion occurred to him and he felt that he must do something. His conversation with Sexton had greatly strengthened his conviction that this was a murder, and he had determined to ferret out the truth if possible. Yet, thus far there was nothing to build upon, no clue, no motive, no suspicion as to who had perpetrated the deed. He simply faced a blank wall, in which no entrance was apparent, yet there must be one, if he was only fortunate enough to stumble upon it. Deep down in his heart West was conscious that he possessed a motive in this search far more worthy than mere curiosity. That motive was Natalie Coolidge. He smiled at the thought, yet confessed it true. In spite of her curt dismissal, his memory of the girl centred about those earlier hours of their acquaintance. Something mysterious had occurred to make her change so quickly, and he was unwilling to condemn her before learning the real reason. This murder must have some relation to the Coolidge estate; he could conceive of no other motive for such a cold-blooded affair; and hence its solving must prove of vital importance to her and her future. Now, when the verdict of the coroner's jury had been suicide, and when only he, and the servant Sexton suspected otherwise, it was of the utmost importance that they endeavour to unravel the crime. For her sake he could do no less, thus serving and protecting her to the best of his ability.