"My father?"
"Your father--George Theophilus Carew. I met him in San Francisco some years ago. He was a drunkard and a gambler, Miss Carew. We had some dealings over cards, for you must know that I am a gambler also, though it is to my credit that I don't drink. One day, in a fit of maudlin fear, he told me his story, and how he was seeking for Julian Dargill."
"Mr. Edermont?"
"Precisely. The man who had taken away his wife. He wanted to kill him."
"To kill him?" echoed Dora, starting; "and--and did--did my father succeed in carrying out his intention? Was it George Carew who killed Mr. Edermont?"
"Not exactly, Miss Carew," responded Pallant dryly, "for the simple reason that before your father could accomplish his object he died himself."
"Died himself! Is my father dead?"
"Dead and buried," said Pallant concisely; "dead and buried."