“I had one; she disgraced me, and is now forever dead to me.”
“She has not disgraced you.”
“No?”
“She is now in Philadelphia.”
“Do you know her address?”
“Yes; I have forgotten the number, but I have it written down in a book, which is in my room. I know the name of the street is Callow Hill.”
“Did she give you any reason for leaving me?” asked Pierre.
“She declared she could no longer mix with the class of people who visited your cabaret,” answered Kidd.
Dick began to entertain hope that Jacquet believed his story. It did seem so.
“Aimee did not tell you,” remarked Pierre, “that one of her brothers is undergoing life imprisonment for murder and robbery?”