"All right—I'll come."
Then, Metcalfe having made his bow and gone, she turned to me:
"You'll find the Times there on the table. I shan't be away long."
But she was away long—so long, indeed, that she did not return at all. For almost an hour I was left alone, and then the door opened a few inches, and instead of Miss Clara, Kate slipped quickly in.
Closing it, but with one hand still holding the handle, she faced me. She looked deadly pale, and trembled violently.
"Mr. Rissler," she said, "my aunt tells me that you have promised her what you refused to promise me—that you will in future abandon the dangerous and not altogether creditable line of work you have taken up in constituting yourself a detective. Is that so?"
"That is so," I answered hotly; "but in regard to its being a discreditable occupation, and in regard to my having promised Miss Carleton what I would not promise to you, I must protest——"
"Forgive me," she said coldly, "but I cannot argue the matter, or listen to any explanation or protestation. I have come here to ask you—to bid you—for my aunt, as well as for myself, to leave this house instantly, and never, under any circumstances, to enter it again."
CHAPTER XXIII.
KATE'S CONFESSION.