When he arrived at the cottage Charlotte welcomed him cordially, while Clay turned to him with a new interest, acquired overnight, and frankly extended a hand.
"We nearly made a mess of it, didn't we?" were Clay's first words after greeting. He laughed at the whimsical look with which he was being regarded.
"But I am afraid I am going to disappoint you," he continued. "I fear things will appear more puzzling and perplexing than ever. After hearing what Charlotte had to say, it seems marvellous—I am more at sea than ever."
The other nodded a brisk comprehension. "We are all at sea, more or less," said he. "But being at sea in a rudderless craft, without a navigator, and off the usual routes of traffic, is one thing; to have a stanch bottom beneath you, a stiff breeze off the quarter, and your course well marked off, is quite another.
"I take it, then, that after you and Miss Joyce passed each other in Mr. Nettleton's office,—after you went into the private office to see what had occasioned her bursting in upon you so unceremoniously,—you were more puzzled than ever; that you saw nothing whatever to explain the occurrence?"
Was it prescience that prompted this conclusion? for hear the answer:
"That is correct."
And again:
"There was no one there?"
"No one; no evidence that anybody besides Joyce had been in the private office."