“It’s true, Van. In trying to relieve the sufferings of a dying man, I stumbled upon the clue I might have sought after, and failed to find, for an hundred years.”
They had halted at a street corner, and Van Vernet wheeled sharply about and made a step forward.
“Vernet, where are you going?”
“Nowhere; never mind me; we part here.”
“Not yet, Van, I want to say—”
“Not now,” broke in Vernet huskily. “You—have said enough—for once.”
And he strode hurriedly down the side street.
“Poor Van,” soliloquized Stanhope, as he gazed after the retreating figure. “Poor fellow; defeat and loss of fortune are too much for him.”
And he turned and went thoughtfully on toward his own abode.