Evidently she was expected, for a light was burning softly and Olive sat near it with a book in her hand, in an attitude of waiting.
Madeline seated herself at the little table as if quite accustomed to such interviews, and said in a low tone:
"I am so glad you came to-night; are you too tired for a long talk?"
"No; tell me all that has happened since I have been absent."
"Olive, I must go away; back to Bellair," said Madeline, abruptly.
"Madeline, you are mad! To Bellair? Why, he is there often now."
"He will not find me out, never fear. I must go to Bellair within the week."
Olive leaned forward and scanned the girl's face closely and long. At last, she said: "Madeline, what is it you meditate? tell me."
"Going back to Bellair; keeping an eye upon the proceedings of Mr. Arthur; finding out what game that man and woman are playing there; and baffling and punishing them all."
She had been kept informed, through Henry, into whose hands had fallen a letter in Cora's handwriting, bearing the Bellair postmark, and addressed to Lucian Davlin, who, so Henry said, "went down, on and off," and always appeared satisfied with the result of his journey.