"Don't look so astonished, Swift," Maillot was saying. "That is only a part of what I have to tell."
"But—Felix Page your uncle!" I marvelled, as soon as I recovered my breath. "Look here, Maillot, it's not often that I 'm so thunderstruck; why have n't you told me this?"
"It's true," he said slowly; "he was my mother's brother. Neither of us was particularly proud of the connection—not enough to brag of it. I was meaning to tell you, though, Swift; it is an essential part of my story."
He wheeled a chair up to one side of the table for Miss Fluette, and I made haste to perform a like service for Miss Genevieve Cooper; an act which she recognized with a slight smile and one of her friendly looks.
"Perhaps you and Genevieve had better get out of your wraps," the young man suggested to Miss Fluette, "because I want you to hear all I have to say to Mr. Swift; it will take some time."
She was now genuinely alarmed, and the handsome hazel eyes searched his face with an apprehension and dread that made her love for him only too apparent. Most young fellows, I hazard, would court any peril for such a look from a girl as beautiful as Miss Belle Fluette.
And the blue eyes, too, mirrored anxiety; they turned to me in a quick, questioning glance. I tried to disregard them—to ignore the presence of these two pretty girls—and confine myself strictly to what Maillot had to relate. It was not easy to do, since Miss Fluette's attitude toward me had become not only openly accusatory, but more than a little scornful; and I feared, moreover, that I should shortly lose the support of Miss Cooper's sympathetic interest.
First of all, though, both young ladies were anxious for an account of the tragedy—a task of which I relieved Maillot by relating briefly the details as I understood them, but, of course, adding no comment that might be construed as an expression of my opinion as to who might be responsible. They listened attentively; but when I had finished, Miss Fluette turned to Maillot as if I were no longer in the room. I noticed that Miss Cooper's brow was gathered in a little frown—whether of perplexity or disapprobation I could not determine—and that she was looking fixedly at her cousin.
"Royal," said Miss Fluette the instant I was through, "is that—is Mr. Burke here?" Unless I was very much mistaken, the abrupt lowering of her voice which accompanied this question, the sudden narrowing of her eyes, betokened a strong dislike for the secretary. So, then, Miss Fluette was acquainted with him, was she?
"Yes, he's here," Maillot absently replied. Then a swift look—a flash of understanding—passed between the two girls.