"So your friend Lancaster has gone away?" he said quietly.
"Yes," replied Eustace, thinking it best to save time by admitting so obvious a fact; "you frightened him away."
"Ah! then he left a letter behind him?"
"He did, Mr. Darrel, in which he stated that you knew him, and that you threatened to denounce him."
"Only if he interfered between me and Mildred," said Darrel.
Jarman flushed, and his face grew angry. "What do you mean by speaking of Miss Starth in so familiar a fashion?"
"I speak as I like, and being in love with Miss Starth--since you want me to be punctilious--I call her by the name I like best."
Jarman could have struck him to the earth, as he stood there like the Man-mountain of Gulliver. There was something insolent about Darrel which inspired the meekest of men to kick him, and Eustace was by no means a Moses. For the moment Eustace was inclined to take him up on the question of loving Mildred, but remembering that he was not officially engaged to the girl, and that should he not discover the assassin of her brother he might never be her husband, he thought it best to pass over the matter. However, he remarked on the conjunction of the girl's name with Frank's. "Lancaster was not likely to interfere between you," he said.
"Oh, yes, he was," said Darrel, in his slow, heavy voice. "Lancaster is in love with her."
Jarman felt a jealous pang. "Impossible!"