There were several books on the library table. These he examined hastily.
He hoped to find one that Lillian might have written her name in, for he believed that it would be easy to compare the writing and pronounce sentence from that.
In this, however, he was disappointed.
Joe’s name was in several, the books being inscribed, with love, to his wife. This only proved his great love.
Eric was ready to swear by it now, and did not mean to let the case drop until he had sifted it thoroughly—such honest affection as Joe’s should never be made sport of in a friend of his, even by the prettiest witch that ever trod the earth—at least not with his approval.
The rustle of female attire drew his attention, and, turning, he found himself face to face with the lady of the house.
He had not sent up his name and she appeared quite surprised at seeing who it was. “You, Mr. Darrell?”
“At your service, Mrs. Leslie.”
“What do you wish this morning, sir?”
There was something of coldness in her tones. He could not tell whence it sprung, as there were several things that might cause it.