“I have the interests of Schuyler Carleton at heart,” the young man continued, “and my efforts shall be primarily directed toward clearing him from any breath of suspicion that may seem to have fallen upon him.”
“O, thank you!” cried Cicely, clasping her hands and showing such genuine gratitude that Fessenden was startled by a new idea.
“I’m sure,” he said, “that you’ll give me any help in your power. As Miss Van Norman’s private secretary, of course you know most of the details of her daily life.”
“Yes; but I don’t see why I should tell everything to that Benson man!”
“You should tell him only such things as may have a bearing on this mystery that we are trying to clear up.”
“Then I know nothing to tell. I know nothing about the mystery.”
“No, Cicely,” said Kitty, in a soothing voice, “of course you know nothing definite; but if you could tell us some few things that may seem to you unimportant, we—that is, Mr. Fessenden—might find them of great help.”
“Well,” returned Cicely slowly, “you may ask questions, if you choose, Mr. Fessenden, and I will answer or not, as I prefer.”
“Thank you, Miss Dupuy. You may feel sure I will ask only the ones I consider necessary to the work I have undertaken. And first of all, was Miss Van Norman in love with Carleton?”
“She was indeed, desperately so.”