Leonard Dagle mused in silence.
“I can make nothing of it,” he said at last.
“Did she know Mrs. Davenant?”
“No; that’s the mystery. Stephen, it seems, is the cause of her being here. He found out her father—how I can’t guess—he must, of course, have known her before; there’s nothing wonderful in that. But what is wonderful is that Stephen should do anyone a good turn, unless—unless—” and his face darkened suddenly and grew fierce—“unless he had some end in view.”
“What end could he have in view here?” said Leonard.
“That’s what I can’t make out; can you?”
Leonard shook his head.
“It’s a strange story throughout.”
“It is,” said Jack, grimly. “But, Stephen Davenant, if you mean any mischief, look out! I’m on your track, my friend! But, Len, old man, you look rather done up. What’s the matter?”
Leonard passed his hand over his brow.