"Yes?" breathed André.
"Well, he's too ill to——"
With a moan, the girl dropped the reins, flung back her head, and clapped her hands to her temples.
"I knew it," she wailed, "I knew it! First Richard Winchester, and then Anthony … my darling … Anthony Lyveden …"
Every stood spellbound. The tragedy had taken a new—a frightful turn. Valerie—trustful, unsuspecting Valerie—was hideously involved. He wondered if Lyveden delirious would babble of this strange girl. If he did…. And when he recovered—what then?
Hurriedly he reviewed the position.
Under Dr. Heron's direction, Lyveden had been drugged here, at Gramarye, and brought to Bell Hammer. The whole object of his removal was to smash his infatuation for Gramarye, so that he might feel free to worship Valerie. On their joint love the whole thing was founded. Everything had been arranged on that basis. And now … if Lyveden had been consulted, perhaps he would not have come—not because of Gramarye, but because of a girl—a girl with auburn hair….
"Where is he?"
The words cut his reflections with a clean slash.
"Who?"