She shivered.
“He was asking questions?”
“Not about you,” Tavernake assured her quickly. “It is your sister in whom he is interested.”
Beatrice nodded, but she seemed very little relieved. Tavernake could see that the old look of fear was back in her face.
“I am sorry, Beatrice,” he said, regretfully. “I seem just now to be always bringing you reminiscences of the people whom it terrifies you to hear about.”
She shook her head.
“It isn't your fault, Leonard,” she declared, “only it is rather strange that you should be mixed up with them in any way, isn't it? I suppose some day you'll find out everything about me. Perhaps you'll be sorry then that you ever even called yourself my brother.”
“Don't be foolish,” he answered, brusquely.
She patted his hand.
“Is the speculation going all right?” she asked.