“Was it true?”
“Yes, yes,” Judge Camden answered, impatiently.
“Then—then—Harold Castello—Violet’s husband! Do you mean to tell me, grandpapa, that he is dead?” burst out Amber, in wildest dismay.
“Harold Castello is dead and buried,” was the startling reply.
CHAPTER XLIII.
SHE FANCIED THAT ONLY THE CONDEMNED IN TORMENT COULD FEEL SUCH PANGS.
Again Amber was speechless from surprise.
She could scarcely credit her own hearing, and stared dumbly at her grandfather for confirmation of his startling statement.
He watched her in silence a few moments, then said, peevishly:
“I did not intend to tell you all this until I got better, for I’m tired and sick from the awful strain on my nerves, and it fatigues me to talk much; but you have somehow wormed it out of me; so I will try and finish the story.”
“Please do, for I am very curious,” answered Amber, disregarding his confession of weakness, and he continued: