“So he was here!” Mrs. Truxton smiled delightedly, while Eleanor flushed with vexation as she realized she had given herself away unnecessarily. “Your uncle and Douglas were discussing politics, and I slipped away to remind Nicodemus to put some sandwiches in my room, as I always want a late supper, particularly after so early a dinner. When I walked through the billiard room on my way to the library I happened to glance through the door leading into the hall, and was surprised to see a man standing by the hatrack. As he raised his head I thought I recognized Fred Lane—I wasn’t quite sure, though, but before I could call his name he had vanished.”
“I see.” Eleanor came to a quick resolution. “You have probably heard, Cousin Kate,” sitting down on the edge of her bed nearest the older woman, “that Fred Lane is very much in love with Cynthia.” Mrs. Truxton nodded her head vigorously. “Eventually, after he had paid her a great deal of attention, they became engaged. Unfortunately”—Eleanor was feeling her way with care—“unfortunately they had a lover’s quarrel. Cynthia refused to see Fred, and he finally came to me and asked me to arrange an interview, saying that he felt convinced, if given the opportunity, he could straighten out their misunderstanding.”
Mrs. Truxton pondered some moments in silence. “Did this lover’s quarrel take place before Senator Carew’s death?” she asked.
“Yes.” Eleanor’s blue eyes did not waver before Mrs. Truxton’s piercing look. “Why?”
“I was just thinking that, if Senator Carew had known of an engagement between a member of his family and a Lane, he’d have died of apoplexy—instead of having to be stabbed to death.”
“What was the exact trouble between Senator Carew and Governor Lane, Cousin Kate?” asked Eleanor. “I never have heard.”
“It began years ago.” Mrs. Truxton hitched her chair close to the bed. “Governor Lane was an intimate friend of Philip Winthrop, Sr., and, after the latter’s marriage to Charlotte Carew, came frequently to Washington to visit them. To my thinking, Philip Winthrop was a bad egg, specious and handsome; and he took in the Carews completely, as well as Governor Lane. He was a stock broker in Wall Street, and during a panic was ruined financially. He promptly committed suicide.”
“Oh, poor Mrs. Winthrop!” exclaimed Eleanor warmly. “What hasn’t she been through!”
“Well, losing her rascal of a husband was the least one of her troubles,” said Mrs. Truxton dryly. “Philip Winthrop’s failure was not an honorable one; there was talk of criminal proceedings, but all that was put a stop to by Senator Carew stepping forward and paying his creditors.” She paused for breath.