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 "Eh? You expected me to talk to him then, the way you were carrying on? But I separated you, didn't I? I sent you away. That seemed enough that morning."

"For what?" Ethel asked nervously.

"But of course he had to follow you down. Now I've got to talk to you. You believe that your father—so Bennet's been telling me—got in touch with this fellow called Loutrelle after your father died? That started your interest in him?"

"Yes."

"Why do you suppose your father did that? Why did he pick him, I mean?"

"Why—why, grandfather; he was going to meet me. Father knew that, some way—"

"Tomfoolery! Look here, your father was killed, and after he was dead—so you think—he tried to talk to this Loutrelle. Now I'm not saying I believe that: I'm taking just what you think. I'm not here to tell you anything this morning on my word, after what you've said to me. So let's just take your own information; your father's spirit, the first thing after he was dead, goes about looking for a fellow named Barney Loutrelle. Now spirits—all I've heard of—usually go first for those closest to 'em, don't they?"

"Why, usually, grandfather."

"Well, what makes you think this is an exception?"

Ethel shrank back, comprehending less his words than the ugliness of his inflection.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"He must have had a father, didn't he? This fellow you call Loutrelle?"

Ethel stared without answering.