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  "He didn't kill himjoin bitcoin exchange! He didn't kill him!" she fairly hissed.

"But Griggs huobi token blockchainsaid they were going to," he argued."I know," Demarest agreed, with an exasperating air of shrewdness; "but Griggs is dead. You see, Burke, you couldn'tin a trial even repeat what he told you. It's not permissible evidence.""Oh, the law!" the Inspector snorted, with much choler. "Well, then," he went on belligerently, "I'll charge youngGilder with murder, and call the Turner woman as a witness."The District Attorney laughed aloud over this project.

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"You can't question her on the witness-stand," he explained patronizingly to the badgered police official. "The lawdoesn't allow you to make a wife testify against her husband. And, what's more, you can't arrest her, and then forceher to go into the witness-stand, either. No, Burke," he concluded emphatically, "your only chance of getting themurderer of Griggs is by a confession.""Then, I'll charge them both with the murder," the Inspector growled vindictively. "And, by God, they'll both go totrial unless somebody comes through." He brought his huge fist down on the desk with violence, and his voice wasforbidding. "If it's my last act on earth," he declared, "I'm going to get the man who shot Eddie Griggs."Demarest was seriously disturbed by the situation that had developed. He was under great personal obligations toEdward Gilder, whose influence in fact had been the prime cause of his success in attaining to the important officialposition he now held, and he would have gone far to serve the magnate in any difficulty that might arise. He had beenperfectly willing to employ all the resources of his office to relieve the son from the entanglement with a woman ofunsavory notoriety. Now, thanks to the miscarried plotting of Burke to the like end, what before had been merely avicious state of affairs was become one of the utmost dreadfulness. The worst of crimes had been committed in thehouse of Edward Gilder himself, and his son acknowledged himself as the murderer. The District Attorney felt agenuine sorrow in thinking of the anguish this event must have brought on the father. He had, as well, sympathyenough for the son. His acquaintance with the young man convinced him that the boy had not done the deed of bloodyviolence. In that fact was a mingling of comfort and of anxiety. It had been better, doubtless, if indeed Dick had shotGriggs, had indicted a just penalty on a housebreaker. But the District Attorney was not inclined to credit theconfession. Burke's account of the plot in which the stool-pigeon had been the agent offered too many complications.Altogether, the aspect of the case served to indicate that Dick could not have been the slayer.... Demarest shook hishead dejectedly."Burke," he said, "I want the boy to go free. I don't believe for a minute that Dick Gilder ever killed this pet stoolpigeonof yours. And, so, you must understand this: I want him to go free, of course."Burke frowned refusal at this suggestion. Here was a matter in which his rights must not be invaded. He, too, wouldhave gone far to serve a man of Edward Gilder's standing, but in this instance his professional pride was in revolt. Hehad been defied, trapped, made a victim of the gang who had killed his most valued informer."The youngster'll go free when he tells what he knows," he said angrily, "and not a minute before." His expressionlightened a little. "Perhaps the old gentleman can make him talk. I can't. He's under that woman's thumb, of course,and she's told him he mustn't say a word. So, he don't." A grin of half-embarrassed appreciation moved the heavyjaws as he glanced at the District Attorney. "You see," he explained, "I can't make him talk, but I might ifcircumstances were different. On account of his being the old man's son, I'm a little cramped in my style."It was, in truth, one thing to browbeat and assault a convict like Dacey or Chicago Red, but quite another to employthe like violence against a youth of Dick Gilder's position in the world. Demarest understood perfectly, but he wasinclined to be sceptical over the Inspector's theory that Dick possessed actual cognizance as to the killing of Griggs."You think that young Gilder really knows?" he questioned, doubtfully.

"I don't think anything--yet!" Burke retorted. "All I know is this: Eddie Griggs, the most valuable crook that everworked for me, has been murdered." The official's voice was charged with threatening as he went on. "And some one,man or woman, is going to pay for it!""Woman?" Demarest repeated, in some astonishment.Burke's voice came merciless."I can see her!" whispered Sophie. "She's sitting down on the dock, just like in my dream."

"Have you noticed how much the garden looks like your own garden in Clover Close?""Yes, it does. With the glider and everything. Can I go down to her?""Naturally. I'll stay here."Sophie ran down to the dock. She almost stumbled and fell over Hilde. But she sat down politely beside her.

Hilde sat idly playing with the line that the rowboat was made fast with. In her left hand she held a slip of paper. She was clearly waiting. She glanced at her watch several times.Sophie thought she was very pretty. She had fair, curly hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow summer dress. She was not unlike Joanna.

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Sophie tried to talk to her even though she knew it was useless."Hilde--it's Sophie!"Hilde gave no sign that she had heard.Sophie got onto her knees and tried to shout in her ear:

"Can you hear me, Hilde? Or are you both deaf and blind?"Did she, or didn't she, open her eyes a little wider? Wasn't there a very slight sign that she had heard something--however faintly?She looked around. Then she turned her head sharply and stared right into Sophie's eyes. She did not focus on her properly; it was as if she was looking right through her."Not so loud, Sophie," said Alberto from up in the car. "I don't want the garden filled with mermaids."

Sophie sat still now. It felt good just to be close to Hilde.Then she heard the deep voice of a man: "Hilde!"

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It was the major--in uniform, with a blue beret. He stood at the top of the garden.Hilde jumped up and ran toward him. They met between the glider and the red convertible. He lifted her up in the air and swung her around and around.

Hilde had been sitting on the dock waiting for her father. Since he had landed at Kastrup, she had thought of him every fifteen minutes, trying to imagine where he was now, and how he was taking it. She had noted all the times down on a slip of paper and kept it with her all day.What if it made him angry? But surely he couldn't expect that he would write a mysterious book for her-- and then everything would remain as before?She looked at her watch again. Now it was a quarter past ten. He could be arriving any minute.But what was that? She thought she heard a faint breath of something, exactly as in her dream about Sophie.She turned around quickly. There was something, she was sure of it. But what?Maybe it was only the summer night.

For a few seconds she was afraid she was hearing things."Hilde!"

Now she turned the other way. It was Dad! He was standing at the top of the garden.Hilde jumped up and ran toward him. They met by the glider. He lifted her up in the air and swung her around and around.

Hilde was crying, and her father had to hold back his tears as well."You've become a grown woman, Hilde!"

"And you've become a real writer."Hilde wiped away her tears."Shall we say we're quits?" she asked."We're quits."

They sat down at the table. First of all Hilde had to have an exact description of everything that had happened at Kastrup and on the way home. They kept bursting out laughing."Didn't you see the envelope in the cafeteria?"

"I didn't get a chance to sit down and eat anything, you villain. Now I'm ravenous.""Poor Dad."

"The stuff about the turkey was all bluff, then?""It certainly was not! I have prepared everything. Mom's doing the serving."

Then they had to go over the ring binder and the story of Sophie and Alberto from one end to the other and backwards and forwards.Mom brought out the turkey and the Waldorf salad, the rose wine and Hilde's homemade bread.Her father was just saying something about Plato when Hilde suddenly interrupted him: "Shh!""What is it?"

"Didn't you hear it? Something squeaking?""No."

"I'm sure I heard something. I guess it was just a field mouse."While her mother went to get another bottle of wine, her father said: "But the philosophy course isn't quite over."

"It isn't?""Tonight I'm going to tell you about the universe."

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC#

Mark Suster

Written by

2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster

Mark Suster

Written by

2x entrepreneur. Sold both companies (last to salesforce.com). Turned VC looking to invest in passionate entrepreneurs 〞 I*m on Twitter at @msuster

Both Sides of the Table

Perspectives of a 2x entrepreneur turned VC at @UpfrontVC, the largest and most active early-stage fund in Southern California. Snapchat: msuster