"I feel as if I were going mad," he muttered. "Constance, pardon me; I must have the air. I must be alone to think, and to face this—this disgrace that has come upon us."
And he stepped through the open window, and reeled rather than walked down the steps, and out among the trees.
Constance watched him until the shrubbery hid him from view, and then, with a quick, nervous glance about the room, and out at the windows, she went to the door which shut our tramp detective from view, but not from hearing.
"Come out," she whispered, hurriedly. "Now is your time to escape."
He came out, shaking himself like a water dog.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "I have been in one position too long."
"I am sorry," began Constance.
"Not for me," he interrupted. "Like most listeners, I heard what I did not bargain for; but—I have not heard too much. Miss Wardour, don't reproach yourself, or Fate; that little extra hearing was a godsend. And now, let me out, quickly, before some one else claims your time."
She looked cautiously out into the hall, then closed the door again.
"I wish I could know your opinion regarding this business—all of it," she said, wistfully. "I begin to feel helpless, like a rudderless mariner."