He gazed around questioningly.
“Now, Philip, wait a moment. Who is Frank Howard? and what has the poor man done?”
Mr. Renfrew snorted.
“The poor man, Maria,” he retorted, “is one of the biggest scoundrels unhung. As state’s attorney it was my duty to prosecute him, and I may say that I have seldom taken more pleasure in any task. I have spoken to you of the case often enough, Maria, for you to know something about it. I should really be glad if you would take some interest in your husband’s affairs.”
Mrs. Renfrew clapped her hands.
“Of course! I remember now,” she said, soothingly. “It was only his name I forgot. Mr. Howard is that swindler who robbed so many poor people, isn’t he, Philip?”
“Nothing of the sort, madam,” thundered the lawyer. “Frank Howard was an officer of the United States Navy. While stationed at this very island of Porto Rico he secretly married an ignorant but very beautiful girl, and then deserted her. She followed him to New York, and wrote him a letter telling him where she was. He went to her address and murdered her—strangled her with his own hands. He was caught red-handed, convicted, and would have been put to death before now if he hadn’t escaped.
“I am telling this for your benefit, Miss Fairfax. There is no use in talking to Mrs. Renfrew; details of my affairs go in one of her ears and out the other.”
“That may not be as uncommon as you think, Mr. Renfrew,” consoled the girl, laughing. “But, as it happens, I am especially interested in the Howard case. I am very well acquainted with one of the officers who was on his ship when he met the girl.”
Mrs. Renfrew clapped her hands.