"Yesterday—just before you saw her—I was there. She was—well, you know. She begged me to go—and keep away from the house. That made me suspicious. I told her I wouldn't come back. Well, I didn't. Because I never left. I knew she wasn't telling me the truth—I beg your pardon, sir.—So I hung around. I saw you all go in. After a little, I saw her come out—on the run. I followed. She went about twenty blocks——"
"Where?"
"You're Miss Milo, aren't you?"
"Susan Milo."
"She spoke of you—oh, so—so loving. Well, it was a girl's club—called the Gramercy. I knew it well because we'd met there many a time. I went in. There was a new maid on hand, but I saw Clare. She came right away, like as if she was more than glad to have a talk. I didn't expect that, so I'd brought along a canary—to make her think it was hers—the one she'd left behind, you see,—so she couldn't just refuse to see me. Well, we talked. There wasn't any quarreling. She wasn't a bit broke up—that surprised me. And it threw me clean off my guard. She was highty-tighty, as you might say, and I'll admit it hurt. We shook hands though, when I went, but she didn't ask me to stay to tea." He turned to Farvel. "One thing she said about the child she wanted you to know."
"What?"
"It's not your daughter, sir."
"Ah."
"And I hear from the St. Clair woman that the little one isn't as old as Clare said. So——"
"I understand."