It was then that Thomas Alvin came down the garden path, a key in his hand.
He apologized for the locked gate, explaining that his poor niece was afflicted, and it was necessary to secure her within the grounds.
“I fear I alarmed her,” said Philip in troubled tones, as Mr. Alvin unlocked the gate.
“She is always afraid on seeing a stranger,” said Alvin. “You are Mr. Bruce, I suppose, from Herrickers?”
“No, I am Philip Barrimore,” replied the young man.
Alvin started and paled, but soon recovering himself said: “I have heard of you, of course. You were to have married my poor niece Eweretta. Come in.”
Alvin unlocked the gate and led Philip into the house. The room they entered was a well-appointed dining-room.
“I have been trying hard to find you, Mr. Alvin,” said Philip, as he seated himself. “And now chance has brought me to you.”
“I don’t think I can tell you any more than I wrote you, Mr. Barrimore, about Eweretta. It was heart-disease she died of. No one suspected her to have it. Aimée, as I told you, had a fit while Eweretta was near her. The doctor put down her death to fright.”
“We will not speak of that, Mr. Alvin,” said Philip from behind closed teeth. “I am anxious to do something for Aimée Le Breton for her sister’s sake. It is for that I have searched for her in Canada.”