He felt a queer, sickening sensation of uneasiness sneak into existence. In the back of his mind, a hateful fear began to shape itself. For a long time he looked into her sombre eyes, and as he looked the fear that was hateful took on something of a definite shape.
"Did you know her husband?" he asked, and somehow he knew what the answer would be.
"Yes," she replied, after a moment. She was startled. Her lips remained parted.
He watched her closely. "Has this—this secret anything to do with Challis Wrandall?"
"It has," said she, meeting his gaze steadily.
His hands clutched the edge of the table in a grip that turned the knuckles white.
"Hetty!" he cried, in a hoarse whisper. "You—can't mean that you—"
"You must go to Sara," she cried hurriedly. "Haven't I told you that she is the one—"
"Were you in love with that infernal scoundrel?" he demanded fiercely.
"Sara knows everything. She will tell you—"