It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded.
“Rex Lyon’s wife,” he mused, thoughtfully. “Well, in all the years of my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?” he questioned, eagerly.
“Yes,” she replied, “the poor child was almost frantic over it. You seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with her?”
“Yes,” he answered, grimly. “I think I have two cases.”
Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside. His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden.
He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated affair.
He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his pocket.
“I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I anticipated.”
Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder.