Constance hurried into Brainard's office. He was sunk deep in his chair reading some papers.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"She has entered a suit for divorce. That young man was a process server."
"Yes."
"You are named as co-respondent along with Blanche Leblanc."
"I?"
"Yes. It must have been an afterthought. Everything is going—fortune, reputation—even your friendship, now, Constance—"
"Going? Not yet."
She read hastily what she had overheard.
"Devil take Worthington," ground out Brainard, gripping the arms of his chair. "For weeks I have suspected him. They have been too clever for me. Constance, while I have been going around laying myself open to discovery, Sybil has played a cool and careful game."