As soon as he had spoken he knew that he had hit the mark. Jessy did not openly betray herself, but there are not many people who can remain absolutely unmoved when unexpectedly asked a startling question. Besides, the man was observant, and had all his faculties strung up for the encounter. He saw one of her hands tighten on the arm of her chair and a hint of uneasiness in her eyes, and that sufficed him.
"Yes," she replied; "I recommended her to some of my friends. I understand that she is getting along satisfactorily."
Carroll felt compelled to admire her manner. He believed that she loved his comrade but had nevertheless tried to ruin him in a fit of jealous rage. She was, no doubt, now keenly regretting her success, but though he thought she deserved to suffer, she was bravely facing the trying situation. It was one that was rife with dramatic possibilities, and he was grateful to her for avoiding them.
"You are going back to-morrow," she said after a brief silence. "I suppose you will have to tell your partner—what you have discovered here—as soon as you reach him?"
Carroll had not intended to spare her, but now he felt almost compassionate, and he had one grain of comfort to offer.
"I must tell him that his shares in the Clermont have been sacrificed. I wonder if that is all you meant?"
Jessy met his inquiring gaze with something very much like an appeal, and then she spread out her hands in a manner that seemed to indicate that she threw herself upon his mercy.
"It is not all I meant," she confessed.
"Then if it's any relief to you, I'll confine myself to telling him that he has been deprived of his most valuable property. I dare say the news will hit him hard enough. He may afterward discover other facts for himself, but on the whole I shouldn't consider it likely. As I said, he's confiding and slow to suspect."
He read genuine gratitude, which he had hardly expected, in the girl's face; but he raised his hand and went on in the rather formal manner which he felt was the only safe one to assume: