"Yes," he asked, pausing reluctantly.
"One word, Lance. I have been mad and blind in allowing my feelings to find vent as I have done. I beg your pardon, and ask you as a priceless boon to forgive and forget my madness. Will you try and do it?"
"Gladly," he answered, with a sigh of relief.
"And one thing more. You will not suffer this act of mine to alter your pleasant relations with the household here. You will come and go as usual that they may not suspect anything has occurred. I promise you that I will not obtrude my company upon you," said she, humbly.
"It were better that I should remain away," he said, hesitatingly.
"But you will come sometimes," she said, and he did not answer nay, but only said: "Good-bye."
[CHAPTER XXI.]
Mr. Shelton, the famous detective, was slowly but surely gaining ground in his mysterious and interesting case.
For a long time it had puzzled him and baffled his investigations, but having at last obtained a single clew, he began to push on, slowly, to be sure, but certainly, to eventual success.