“Not Leoncia!” Francis cried out.
Henry shook his head.
“Some one of the Solanos——old Enrico?”
“No; your wife, Mrs. Morgan. Torres shot her, deliberately shot her. I was beside her when she fell. Now hold on, I’ve got other news. Leoncia’s right there in that other office, and she’s waiting for you to come to her.—Can’t you wait till I’m through? I’ve got more news that will give you the right steer before you go in to her. Why, hell’s bells, if I were a certain Chinaman that I know, I’d make you pay me a million for all the information I’m giving you for nothing.”
“Shoot——what is it?” Francis demanded impatiently.
“Good news, of course, unadulterated good news. Best news you ever heard. I—now don’t laugh, or knock my block off——for the good news is that I’ve got a sister.”
“What of it?” was Francis’ brusque response. “I always knew you had sisters in England.”
“But you don’t get me,” Henry dragged on. “This is a perfectly brand new sister, all grown up, and the most beautiful woman you ever laid eyes on.”
“And what of it?” growled Francis. “That may be good news for you, but I don’t see how it affects me.”
“Ah, now we’re coming to it,” Henry grinned. “You’re going to marry her. I give you my full permission——”