“Well, you looked as black as a thunder cloud, and I didn’t know but what you might be meditating something of the sort.”
“It was rude in me to act that way, and I beg your pardon for it.”
Frankly said.
The detective liked him better for it, and there was something about the other’s face quite attractive after all.
Somehow Eric did not seem to hate and despise him as he had done before.
When the artist had gone he fell into a fit of musing again.
Various theories were built up, only to be discarded again as unequal to the occasion.
He remembered that the letter had been given to Prescott by a woman, who was evidently in the pay of the party signed L.
Whom could Lillian send?
He did not know the internal arrangements of the lovely little house up town, and this was what was now on his mind.