"Well, then, since you will have it. Yes, I wrote that letter, for I could no longer stand the humiliation of meeting your sister-in-law in decent houses, and that double hypocrite who pretends to be your brother's friend and your admirer. Proof? I was at my hair-dresser's one morning, when a woman who is an intimate of McQuade, the politician, came in. She dropped a letter. McQuade had written it. It told definitely the information you have in your hand."
"You have that letter?" Patty was conscious of a strange numbness stealing over her.
"No, I haven't. I read it, and sent it to its owner. I consider myself very fortunate. I always had my suspicions, and it was a relief to find that they were not without foundation. You will now relieve me of your unwelcome presence in this house." This time Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene leveled her arm toward the door; the right was with her.
"In a moment," said a third voice, masculine.
Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene's arm dropped. Patty turned with a low cry. She had forgotten that there might be some one else in the house.
Haldene entered through the door to the dining-room. His face was hard and his eyes cold.
"I must ask your pardon, both of you, but I could not help overhearing your voices. They ran somewhat high." He bowed to Patty deferentially; he merely glanced at his wife.
"Franklyn!" This phase of the situation was altogether too unexpected and embarrassing for Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene to accept it readily.
"I have heard words about an anonymous letter; I have heard names,—McQuade, your brother, his wife, Warrington, and my wife. I should like to know—"
"Franklyn!" his wife appealed. To be humiliated before this impudent chit of a girl!