“With an exclamation he rose, and walked across the room”
“Only in a general way. It is known that the Senator opposed his engagement to Cynthia, that they had a bitter quarrel that night, and that Lane left the ball to look for Cynthia’s carriage. He was gone some time, and, when the carriage did turn up, Senator Carew was seated in it—dead.”
“Is that enough to convict?”
“It’s purely circumstantial evidence,”—evasively,—“I don’t know yet what new testimony Mrs. Winthrop may have contributed to cause his arrest.”
“Mrs. Winthrop’s attitude is incomprehensible to me,” burst out Eleanor. “Fred’s father, Governor Lane, was her husband’s best friend, and Mr. Winthrop was under great financial obligations to him when he died. And now look at the way Mrs. Winthrop is treating that friend’s son—hounding him to the gallows. Is that gratitude?” with biting scorn.
“Some natures don’t wear well under an obligation, and the cloven hoof crops out.” Douglas pushed the window farther open. “Ingratitude is an abominable sin, and the one most frequently committed.” A faint knock on the hall door interrupted him. “Come in,” he called, and Brett opened the door. He drew back when he saw Douglas was not alone.
“Don’t go,” said Eleanor, gathering up her embroidery and workbag, “I must run upstairs and ask the nurse how Miss Carew is.” She hastened toward the door, which Brett still held open, but he stopped her on the threshold.
“I will be greatly obliged if you will spare me half an hour, Miss Thornton; when you come downstairs again will be time enough,” he added, as Eleanor stepped back into the library.
Eleanor studied his impassive face intently for a second before answering, then: “I’ll be down again shortly,” and she disappeared up the hall.