There was no change in the Secretary's countenance; he was still bland, smiling, purring like a cat.
"Your private affairs, Miss Grayson," he said, "of course! None would think of questioning that statement. But how about affairs that are not private? There are certain public duties, owed by all of us in a time like this."
"You have searched my house," she said in the same cold tones; "you have exposed me to that indignity, and now I ask you to leave me alone."
"Miss Grayson," he said, "I would not trouble you, but the sight of gold, freshly coined gold like that and of so great a value, arouses my suspicions. It makes a question spring up in my mind, and that question is, how did you get it? Here is my friend, Captain Prescott; he, too, no doubt, is interested, or perhaps you know him already."
It was said so easily and carelessly that Prescott reproved himself when he feared a double meaning lurking under the Secretary's words. Nervousness or incaution on the part of Miss Grayson might betray much. But the look she turned upon Prescott was like that with which she had favoured the Secretary—chilly, uncompromising and hostile.
"I do not know your friend," she said.
"But he was with the officer who searched your house," said the Secretary.
"A good reason why I should not know him."
The Secretary smiled.
"Captain Prescott," he said, "you are unfortunate. You do not seem to be on the road to Miss Grayson's favour."