"It is not true! It is not true! Miss Hargone is a good, true, pure girl."
"Oh," sneered Torry, "yet she paid a visit to Grent's chambers on the day he was killed. Hullo!"
He uttered this exclamation in sheer astonishment; for Frederick, in a frenzy of rage, had flung himself violently forward and was clutching at his throat. Torry, though fat and short, was stronger than his assailant, and, in a few minutes, forced back Leighbourne into his chair. While the young man sat there panting and furious he wiped his forehead, and spoke to him sharply.
"You have told me all I wish to know, Mr. Leighbourne, and without words. You love Miss Hargone."
"Yes, I do," said Frederick sullenly, "and it is a lie that she visited Grent."
"It is true," retorted Torry, "and I'll prove it to you in a few days, sir. More, I believe that she was about to elope with Grent to Italy when his death put an end to her schemes.
"No, No; I'll not believe it. She did not love Grent, she does not love Blake. I am the only one she cares for."
"It is my opinion that she cares only for herself."
"At any rate, she has nothing to do with this crime," muttered Frederick.
"That is just what I am going to find out."