“Certainly, they are, indeed. And unless that young woman is really the dreadful being we believe her, we ought not to ruin her by open accusation. Still, I must say she acts extremely like a guilty person.”
“She does, Mr. Argyll; I see but one explanation of her conduct—she is herself particeps criminis, or she knows who is.”
“Quite likely. Indeed, we can not well think otherwise. Did you say you had actually seen the girl, Mr. Burton?”
“We saw her yesterday—that is, Mr. Redfield did.”
“May I inquire the result? or am I not supposed to be sufficiently interested in the case to have any right to ask questions? If so, I beg you, don’t trouble yourselves. There are doubtless others who have deeper and different reasons from mine, for being conspicuous in the matter.” As James said this, he looked directly at me. “You know, Mr. Burton, I have intimated as much before; and, if I am sometimes imprudent in my speech, you must know how hard it is for me to control myself always.”
I was conscious that I grew pale, as Mr. Burton glanced swiftly at me, I felt so certain that James meant something personal, yet so uncertain how to accuse him of it, or to compel him to explain himself, when he would probably deny there was any thing to explain.
“I don’t think there’s any one has a deeper interest in the matter than you, Mr. Argyll,” said Mr. Burton, with a kind of smooth distinctness of tone which might seem to be impressive, or mean nothing, as the listener chose to understand it. “About seeing the girl, Redfield has not half so much to tell as I wish he had. In fact, he let her slip through his fingers.”
A dry laugh was James’ comment upon this avowal. Mr. Burton saw that we were inwardly chafing, ready, as it were, to spring upon each other; he took up his hat and gloves.
“Come, gentlemen, we have business on hand of too much importance to permit of ceremony. Mr. Argyll, I must excuse myself. But if you’ll join us, we shall be glad of your aid and company. We are going over to Brooklyn, to seek for another glimpse of Leesy Sullivan.”
James slightly started as Brooklyn was mentioned. He had no reason to suppose that any thing but courtesy prompted the invitation he received; yet he did not hesitate to accept it. Whether from mere curiosity, or jealousy at being kept out of the detective’s full confidence, or a desire to pry into my actions and motives, or a praiseworthy interest—whatever it was prompted him, he kept with us all day, expressing regret as deep as our own when another night came without any results. Being belated, we took our supper in a saloon, as we had done our dinner. I could not but notice that Mr. Burton did not invite James to the house to spend the night, nor converse with him at all about his daughter or his personal affairs.