"Well, at any rate, she was about to take me into her confidence, when Lynden appeared. Try to impress upon her that I will do in her behalf everything consistent with my duty. As soon as she is able to continue what she started to relate, why, the quicker can we get things shipshape again. The whole mystery hinges upon what happened in the Nettleton Building that day. Retire, if you desire; but I expect the District Attorney here presently, and you will be interested in what takes place."
On the instant Sam announced that Mr. Mountjoy was waiting below. Converse cast an inquiring look at Mrs. Westbrook, who inclined her head.
"Conduct Mr. Mountjoy here, Sam," was the result of the look.
Joyce disengaged herself from her mother's embrace, and sat upright once more, looking to her disordered tresses with certain deft and subtle touches. She turned to the Captain with a calmness which showed that his recent words had not been lost upon her: the deep violet eyes yielded a faint light of hope; the sweet face became rapidly more composed.
Mr. Mountjoy paused a moment in the doorway; catching sight of the two ladies, he hastened toward them.
"My dear Mrs. Westbrook—Joyce," said he, taking a hand of each in turn. "It is distressing to see you thus." His voice was full of sympathy and condolence, but he made no further effort to frame his feelings with words.
Mr. Mountjoy was well past middle age, but not far above middle height. He was slender and gray, and his thin, handsome features were saved from asceticism only by the innumerable fine lines of humor about his eyes. However, he was serious enough now, as he looked to the Captain for an explanation.
Mr. Mountjoy's Thin, Handsome Features were Saved from Asceticism
Only by the Lines of Humor about His Eyes.