EVAN.
Miss Wardour and the private detective had just completed their work of transferring to paper a minute description of the Wardour diamonds, when the door opened quietly, and Francis Lamotte, pale, heavy-eyed, but quite composed, appeared before them.
"Have you finished your work?" he asked wearily. "If so, may I intrude?"
"Come, by all means," replied Constance, gently. "You are not intruding, Frank."
"Thank you." He came forward, and sank listlessly into a chair. "Constance, who brought you this news about—Sybil?"
Constance glanced toward the detective, and Francis, interpreting the look, hastened to say:
"It is known to Mr. Belknap, I presume—this shameful business. There is no use of secrecy, where all the world is already agape. My sister, you tell me, has eloped with a low brute. I am numbed with the horror of it. But I must hear it all; every word, every particular. Who brought you the news, Constance?"
"Doctor Heath," replied the girl, icily.
"Ah!"
The interjection came through shut teeth, and just for a moment the dark shadow flitted across his features; then he said, with quiet composure: