“If in that trunk I should find some of her dresses and jewelry—well, I should be strongly inclined to believe it meant flight.”
“No, no,” hoarsely, clutching his throbbing brow with both hands, “not that. Lillian would never be guilty of that. She may have flirted with the man—women are weak, I know—but that is the worst I will believe of her—the worst.”
Darrell shrugged his shoulders.
“Very good, Joe, but you must permit me to place my own estimation on things. My eyes are not blinded by love—I can weigh things calmly, and place their right estimation upon them.”
“Eric, I said I would leave it all with you and I do, but until it is proven beyond all doubt, do not ask me to believe in her guilt. It will kill me if it is so.”
“Trust in me, Joe, old fellow, I will act for you as though you were my brother.”
“And—whatever comes, Eric—be gentle with Lillian—let me be the one to—oh! my God! I cannot believe it, and yet it seems as though a burning iron were branding it on my brain.”
The detective was done for the present.
From Joe’s offices he went to his own.
Here he could sit down and review the situation in regular order.