"Certainly," she answered, staring at him as she shook hands.
A moment later he was gone, leaving Marion in considerable perplexity and some anxiety of mind.
When Brett left the house he went in search of Vanbrugh, whom he ultimately found at a club. The conversation which had taken place between three men who were spending the long afternoon between letter-writing, the papers, and gossip, is worth recording.
It was about five o'clock. The names of the men were Goss, Greene, and Bewlay, and they were rather insignificant persons, but gentlemen, and all acquainted with the actors of this story. Goss was seated in a deep leathern easy-chair with a paper. Greene was writing a letter, and Bewlay was exceedingly busy with a cigar while waiting for some one to say something.
"Well!" exclaimed Goss. "That beats the record!"
"I say," said Greene, looking up and speaking sharply, "I wish you would not startle a fellow in that way. My nerves are not of the best any way. What is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," said the first speaker. "John Darche has come back to life again. I thought he was drowned last May."
"Stuff!" ejaculated Greene, testily.
"All right. I do not want to disturb your correspondence."
"What is that about John Darche?" inquired Bewlay, delighted at hearing a voice.