"Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Darche with great emphasis.
"No," objected Brett, "there is just a possibility, and if it should be that, some one had better see him. Something very disagreeable might be written, and it is better to stop it at once."
"Very well," said Mrs. Darche, yielding. "If you really think it is better, see him here. Ask Mr. Wood to come in," she said to Stubbs, as she passed him and went out.
CHAPTER X.
Brett stood before the fireplace as the reporter entered the room—a quiet, pale young man with a pinched face, smooth brown hair and thin hands which somehow conveyed the impression of sadness.
"I asked to see Mrs. Darche," he said apologetically.
"Mrs. Darche is engaged," answered Brett. "I am a friend of hers and will answer any questions so far as I can."
"Thank you. I have no doubt, sir, that you are often troubled by us. You know the reporter has to be everywhere. I will not take any more of your time than I can help. I understand that Mrs. Darche and her friends are to take part in some tableaux for a charitable purpose at the end of the week—"
"I fancy there is some mistake about that," said Brett. "Mrs. Darche is in mourning."