“Indeed!”—he seemed relieved, putting off his ugly look and condescending to be gentlemanly again. “Have you found out where the wretched creature has hidden herself? Upon my word, I think if Eleanor knew the case in all its bearings, it might be useful in keeping her from quite killing herself of grief.”
It was now my turn to be angry; I turned upon him with a flushed face:
“For God’s sake, don’t slander the dead, even by imputation, however slight. Whoever put Henry where he lies now, and for what purpose, this much I believe—that no injustice nor sin of his own brought that high heart low. And the villain, I say the villain, who could breathe such a whisper in Eleanor’s ear would be base enough to—to—”
“Speak out,” smiled James, holding me with his softly glittering gaze.
“I will say no more,” I ended, abruptly, as I heard Mr. Burton’s steps approaching. It was evident to me that there was to be no peace between us two.
I watched my host while he greeted the new arrival; I wished to satisfy myself if there was a difference in his manner of treating us which would justify my belief that Mr. Burton was not playing a part with me. He was courteous, affable, every thing that was desirable or to be expected in a gentleman receiving a friendly acquaintance—that was all; again I assured myself that it was only toward me that he displayed real liking and affection. But this he did not now display. His face had on its mask—that conventional smile and polish, that air of polite interest, than which nothing is more impenetrable. It was because, in our intercourse alone together, Mr. Burton laid this mask aside, that I flattered myself I was his friend and confidant.
“Richard got the start of me,” observed James, after the compliments of the day were over; “I had not the least idea that he was in town. I came down yesterday to buy myself an overcoat—important business, wasn’t it?—and stayed over to the opera, last night being the opening of the new season. Did either of you attend? I did not see you, if there. He tells me that he left in the early morning train, before the one I took. Have you any information of importance, Mr. Burton?”
“We have seen Miss Sullivan.”
“Is it possible? And have you really made up your mind that the poor thing is guilty? If so, I hope you will not fail to have her arrested. I should like, very much indeed, to have the affair sifted to the dregs.”
“Yes, I suppose so. It is quite natural that you should take an interest in having it sifted, as you say. I assure you that if I have reason enough to warrant an indictment, I shall have one gotten out. In the mean time we must be cautious—the interests involved are too serious to be played with.”