Thornton lost all patience. “I shan’t offer you another damn cent,” and he thrust the money back into the wallet.
Annette’s eyes flashed. “Very well, Monsieur le Colonel; I go. But when I come back you will have to pay me more—but yes—more than that beggarly five thousand!” and with a stamp of her foot, she turned and hastened out of the room.
“A nice she-devil!” remarked Thornton, gazing blankly at Douglas.
“I think——” Douglas stopped speaking as the portières were again thrust aside and Eleanor walked in.
“Uncle Dana, Mrs. Winthrop is waiting to see you in the library. Oh, Mr. Hunter, good morning”—her slender hand was almost lost in his firm clasp—“I did not know you were here.”
“I called hoping that you might care to take a motor ride,” said Douglas quickly.
“Why, yes, with pleasure.” She sank down on the sofa and motioned Douglas to draw up a chair.
“Eleanor,” broke in Thornton, returning from the hall door, “did you tell that precious maid of yours that Mrs. Winthrop would give five thousand dollars reward for information leading to the conviction of the murderer of Senator Carew?”
“Annette!” in profound astonishment. “No, certainly not; I’ve never spoken to her on the subject. Where did you get such an idea?” Her voice rose to a higher key.