The calm, resolute tones of the stranger have their weight with the mystified Ray. Instinctively he feels the power of the man, and the weight of the argument.
"What do you wish to know, sir?" he says, quietly. "I am ready to serve Clifford Heath."
"Ah, very good;" signing to O'Meara. "First, sir, as a friend of Doctor Heath, do you know if he has recently had any trouble, any disappointment? He is a young man. Has he been jilted, or—"
"Ah-h-h!" breaks in O'Meara; "why didn't you ask me that, Wedron? Upon my soul, I have heard plenty about this same business."
"Then take the witness stand, sir. What do you know? You won't be over delicate in bringing facts to the surface."
"Why," rubbing his hands serenely, "I can't see your drift, Wedron, any more than can Vandyck here; but I have heard Mrs. O'Meara discuss the probable future of Clifford Heath, until I have it by heart. Not long ago she was sure he, Heath, was in love with Miss Wardour, and we all thought she rather favored him, although it's hard to guess at a woman's real feelings. Later, quite lately, in fact, the thing seemed to be all off, and my wife has commented on it not a little."
"Oh!" ejaculates Mr. Wedron. "And—had Doctor Heath any rivals?"
"Miss Wardour has always plenty of lovers; but I believe that Mr. Frank Lamotte was the only rival he ever had any reason to fear."
"Ah! so Mr. Frank Lamotte has been Heath's rival? Handsome fellow, that Lamotte! Mr. Vandyck," turning suddenly upon Ray, "the ice is now broken. What do you know, or think, or believe, about this attachment to Miss Wardour?"