Then Earle sat down, and there was a few minutes silence. At length he roused himself with a sigh.
"Mr. Leslie," he said, "when you were leaving Brackenside you called me friend, and said that you would do anything to help me. I have come to prove if your words are true."
"I am sure they are," replied Mr. Leslie, as he looked pityingly on the worn, haggard face. "You may prove them in any way you will." Then he smiled. "Has Miss Innocence been unkind to you, that you look so dull?"
"That does not sound as though he knew anything about her going," thought Earle; "and if he does not, I am indeed at sea."
Then he looked at the artist. It was an honest face, although the lips curled satirically, and there was a gleam of mischief in the keen eyes.
"Is it a lover's quarrel, Earle?" he asked.
"No, it is more than that," replied Earle. "Tell me, Mr. Leslie, has Doris written to you since you left Brackenside?"
An expression of blank wonder came into the artist's face.
"Yes," he replied, "she wrote to me twice; each time it was to thank me for papers and critics that I had sent her."
"That is all?" said Earle.