At that moment, a light was turned on in Gregory's library, and Grace
Noir was seen to pass the window.
Abbott's hand tightened on the other's arm, as he urged, "Down that alley, a nice dark place for talking—"
"'Nice dark', be hanged!" growled Robert. "What business can you have with me that wouldn't wait till morning? Look here, I'm desperate!"
"So am I," retorted Abbott. "Bob, you've been to Springfield."
Robert Clinton snatched open the yard-gate, muttering, "That's my business."
"Miss Noir sent you to unearth a secret."
"Oh!" exclaimed Robert, in an altered tone, stopping in the gateway, "did she tell you about it?"
"No—but you've brought back that secret, and you must not tell it to
Miss Noir."
"Not tell her? That's funny!" Robert produced a sound which he expected to pass as laughter. "So that's what you wanted to tell me, is it? Do you know what the secret is?"
"I do not. But you mustn't tell it."