“I presume it’s the same sad business he went to see you about to-day.”
Darrell thought not.
“You know he has a young clerk and cashier in his employ, Georgie Kingsley, of whom Joe is very fond. Of late he has been led to believe the boy is getting a little wild—reports have been reaching Joe of little things, showing that Georgie is keeping bad company, and gambling. I know this has worried Joe of late.”
Darrell thought something else might be giving him a nervous spell too—no man can live a double life except at a great mental strain, for the risk of sudden exposure must be terrible.
“So he’s gone to try and save poor Georgie to-night, has he? Noble-hearted old Joe.”
She could not help but catch something of the sneer under his words, and trembled as she realized that the detective had grave doubts.
“He said he would probably go to your room and get your company.”
“He changed his mind, no doubt,” muttered the detective—indignation was apt to make him tell more than discretion warranted.
“What do you mean—you know something that you do not want to tell me. I insist on your speaking. Have you seen my husband?”
“I believe I have.”