Helen went very white; but she spoke with a firmness that was amazing, even to Bower. “Who is Kennett?” she said.
“One of my confidential clerks.”
“And Pargrave?”
“The proprietor of ‘The Firefly.’”
“Did Millicent know of this—plot?”
“Yes.”
Then she murmured a broken prayer. “Ah, dear Heaven!” she complained, “for what am I punished so bitterly?”
Karl, the voluble and sharp-eyed, retailed a bit of gossip to Stampa that evening as they smoked in Johann Klucker’s chalet. “As I was driving the cattle to the middle alp to-day, I saw our fräulein in the arms of the big voyageur,” he said.
Stampa withdrew his pipe from between his teeth. “Say that again,” he whispered, as though afraid of being overheard.