“Please don’t talk like that now. I can’t bear it.” Avice’s brave, determined air forsook her, and with quivering lip, she looked imploringly at the man who gazed passionately into her troubled eyes.
“Forgive me, dear, I should have known better. But when I think of you, here, alone, save for a woman who is nothing to you, I want to carry you off where I can protect you from all annoyance or trouble.”
“I know you do, and I ought to feel more grateful, but I can’t seem to think of anything just now but——”
“Of course, my darling, I understand, and it is all right. Only tell me what you want and I am at your orders, always and forever.”
“Then come with me to the other room, stay by me, and tell me what things mean, when I don’t understand. Listen, too, yourself, to everything, so you’ll know just what to do when the police fail.”
“Why are you so sure they will fail?”
“Because the case is all so mysterious. Because it will take a clever and skilled brain to find my uncle’s murderer.”
Avice spoke in low, intense tones, as if she were stirred to the very soul by her harrowing anxiety.
“Avice,” said Hoyt, suddenly, “have you any suspicion of anybody—anybody at all?”
“No! oh, no! How could I have?”