"And she," anxiously; "did she see you, Ray?"
"No, thank God! she was driving with her mother, and, Con.," his voice broke and he turned his face away; "I wish you would go to her."
"Why, Ray?"
"Because—oh, you should have seen her face. She is suffering horribly; she is dying by inches."
CHAPTER XXIII.
FATHER AND SON.
At early morn on the next day, Jasper Lamotte and his son, Frank, were seated together in the dining-room of Mapleton.
Jasper Lamotte was hurriedly eating a bountiful and appetizing lunch, and washing it down with plenty of light claret; and Frank was seated near the table, smoking a strong segar, and giving an attentive ear to the words of his sire.
"This is the first time that we have got the lead on Burrill," said the elder Lamotte, "and in some way it must be made to count. Drunk or sober, heretofore, he has looked after his interests too closely to serve ours."