“Yes,” said Rob; “we can arrive at facts.”
What prompted him to speak so curtly, he didn’t know; but his speech did not at all please Miss Burt. Her color flew to her cheeks, though she said nothing, and then, as Mrs. Carleton rose from the table, the two ladies smiled and withdrew, leaving Rob alone with his host.
“It’s all right, old boy, of course,” said Carleton, “but did you have any reason for flouting poor little Dorothy like that?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Fessenden honestly and apologetically. “I spoke without thinking, and I’m sorry for it.”
“All right—it’s nothing. Now, Rob, old fellow, you can’t deceive me. I saw a curious expression in your eyes as you looked at Miss Burt to-night, and—well, there is no need of words between us, so I’ll only tell you you’re all wrong there. You look for hidden meanings and veiled allusions in everything that girl says, and there aren’t any. She’s as frank and open-natured as she can be, and—forgive me—but I want you to let her alone.”
Fessenden was astounded. First, at Carleton’s insight in discovering his thoughts, and second, at Carleton’s mistaken judgment of Miss Burt’s nature.
But he only said, “All right, Schuyler; what you say, goes. Would you rather not talk at all about the Van Norman affair?” Fessenden spoke thus casually, for he felt sure it would make it easier for Carleton than if he betrayed a deeper interest.
“Oh, I don’t care. You know, of course, how deeply it affects me and my whole life. I know your sympathy and good-fellowship. There’s not much more to say, is there?”
“Why, yes, Carleton; there is. As your friend, and also in the interests of justice, I am more than anxious to discover the villain who did the horrid deed, and though the inquest people are doing all they can, I want to add my efforts to theirs, in hope of helping them,—and you.”
“Don’t bother about me, Rob. I don’t care if they never discover the culprit. Miss Van Norman is gone; it can’t restore her to life if they do learn who killed her.”