"Tell me about Carly," he said, speaking thickly. "Is she engaged to Shelby?"
"No, she isn't!"
"I heard she was."
"Probably he hinted it, and the report started. He's eternally after her, but, to my certain knowledge she hasn't yet said yes."
"Oh, my God! Dear little Carly! What can I do?"
"She would go with you,—into a new life——"
"No; don't be absurd! This secret must be kept inviolably. Nor could I marry her under an assumed name, even if she were willing. Also, she may have forgotten me."
"No, she has not. Oh, Mr. Peter, you must come home."
"I can't. But tell me more,—tell me of mother, of Julie,—why, I sent a reporter to the house just to get a line on home life,—on present conditions,—oh, little girl, you don't know what I suffered; it's all so foolish,—so absurd,—the spook stuff, I mean,—yet, as I've learned, it's the very breath of life to my Dad."
"It is; but, look at the thing from another angle. Couldn't you help unravel the Blair mystery. Here's Mr. Thorpe held for a crime I don't think he committed; here's Julie crying her eyes out because of it——"