Part 18 (1/2)

He came out, shaking himself like a water dog.

”Ugh!” he exclaimed. ”I have been in one position too long.”

”I am sorry,” began Constance.

”Not for me,” he interrupted. ”Like most listeners, I heard what I did not bargain for; but--I have not heard too much. Miss Wardour, don't reproach yourself, or Fate; that little extra hearing was a G.o.dsend.

And now, let me out, quickly, before some one else claims your time.”

She looked cautiously out into the hall, then closed the door again.

”I wish I could know your opinion regarding this business--all of it,”

she said, wistfully. ”I begin to feel helpless, like a rudderless mariner.”

”It's a hard knot,” he said, going toward the door; ”a very hard knot.

But we will untie it, Miss Wardour, and then you will understand all these things. Now tell me, where is your detective going next?”

”I do not know.”

”You must find out,” imperatively.

”I think I can.”

”And come to me in the garden.”

”Very well,” looking out once more. ”Your way is clear, sir; go straight to the kitchen entrance.”

He pa.s.sed out, and went his way, swiftly, quietly, and un.o.bserved; and Constance returned to Mr. Belknap, and the completion of her jewel list.

”The combat deepens,” mused the tramp detective, as he paced slowly down the garden walk. ”The plot, thickens. I come for a catfish,--I may catch a whale. Oh, what a knot; what a beautiful, delightful, horribly hard knot; and how my fingers itch to begin at it. But soft--easy; there is more to be tied in. Let us pay out the rope, and wait.”

CHAPTER X.

EVAN.

Miss Wardour and the private detective had just completed their work of transferring to paper a minute description of the Wardour diamonds, when the door opened quietly, and Francis Lamotte, pale, heavy-eyed, but quite composed, appeared before them.

”Have you finished your work?” he asked wearily. ”If so, may I intrude?”

”Come, by all means,” replied Constance, gently. ”You are not intruding, Frank.”

”Thank you.” He came forward, and sank listlessly into a chair.

”Constance, who brought you this news about--Sybil?”

Constance glanced toward the detective, and Francis, interpreting the look, hastened to say:

”It is known to Mr. Belknap, I presume--this shameful business. There is no use of secrecy, where all the world is already agape. My sister, you tell me, has eloped with a low brute. I am numbed with the horror of it.