His hearers stared stupidly at each other, and then at the butler. "Who murdered him?" asked Miller, the first to recover speech.
"We don't know—they say Julie; leastways we only know for positive that
Miss Kathleen was with him …"
Miller turned first white then red, and an angry gleam lit his eye as he stepped nearer the agitated servant.
"That will do. Go tell Mr. Whitney we are here," and his tone caused
Vincent to hurry away in deep resentment.
Foster gazed dazedly at Miller. "What can have happened?" he asked. "Was
Spencer so foolish as to bait Winslow …"
"Careful," cautioned Miller, his quick ear detecting a footstep in the adjoining drawing-room. An instant later Miss Kiametia Grey stepped into the library.
"Thank goodness you have come," she exclaimed, darting toward Foster.
"I've wanted you so much …"
"My darling"—Foster, forgetful of Miller's presence, clasped her hand in both of his.
"There—there—this isn't any time for sentiment," and Miss Kiametia's chilly tone recalled the Senator to the fact that they were not alone. Looking a trifle foolish, he dropped her hand and stepped back.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, coldly. "You said you needed me."