“Don't blame him, Miss Sherwood,” Larry interrupted. “He didn't tell you because I begged him not to as a favor to me. Blame me for everything.”
Her judgment upon Hunt was pronounced with cold finality, her eyes straight into Hunt's: “Whatever may have been Mr. Hunt's motives, I unalterably hold him to blame.”
She turned upon Larry. The face which he had only seen in gracious moods was as inflexibly stern as a prosecuting attorney's.
“We're going to go right to the bottom of this, Mr. Brainard. You too have known all along that this Miss Cameron was really the Maggie Carlisle this officer speaks of?”
“Yes.”
“And you have known all along that she was the daughter of this notorious criminal, Old Jimmie Carlisle?”
The impulse surged up in Larry to tell the newly learned truth about Maggie. But he remembered Maggie's injunction that the truth must never be known. He checked his revelation just in time.
“Yes.”
“And is it true that Maggie Carlisle is herself what is known as a crook?—or has had crooked inclinations or plans?”
“It's like this, Miss Sherwood—”