"No! no! you know nothing about it, and the detective is a fool!" cried Clara.
Mr. Pembroke was immensely surprised at this violent outbreak, when he had expected tears, prostration, the deepest grief. It occurred to him that perhaps his niece's mind had been unsettled by her trouble. She sat looking at him with blazing eyes, her face flushed, her foot nervously patting the floor.
"You are greatly excited, Clara," ventured her uncle, gently.
"Tell me what the detective said!" retorted Clara, imperiously.
"He has found that a closed carriage, such as we know Strobel took at the corner of Park and Tremont Streets, halted at the Park Square Station shortly after that time. The passenger was a young man who answered the description of Strobel. He paid the driver, went into the station, bought a ticket for New York, and immediately took his place in the train. It is further known that Lizzie White took a train from the same station at about the same hour."
"Is that all?" asked Clara, scornfully.
"My dear girl, is it not enough?"
"It is nothing, uncle, absolutely nothing. Has your detective seen the driver of the closed carriage?"
"I don't know; I suppose so."