“Then you deny running out after his carriage, which Mr. Winthrop declares you did?”
“No, sir, I do not deny it. Mr. Winthrop is quite right.” She paused, and the men looked at her expectantly. “I have a quest in life—not the one attributed to me by this gentleman,”—waving her hand scornfully toward Winthrop, who was listening to her statement with an incredulous smile distorting his features,—“but an honorable legacy which my dear mother left me to execute.
“On bidding me a hasty good night, Senator Carew, whether in jest or earnest, told me that, if I would marry him, he would assist me to bring my mission to a successful conclusion.”
“Would you mind stating what this quest is?” asked the Secretary.
Eleanor hesitated. “It is a family matter, and I would rather not go into it just now. But—if necessary—I promise to explain later.”
The Secretary did not press the point. “Continue your story, Miss Thornton.”
“About five minutes or more after the Senator left I came to the conclusion that my duty”—she glanced appealingly at Douglas—“compelled me to marry him. On an impulse, I picked up my cloak, which was hanging on the hall rack, opened the front door, and ran down to the curb.
“The Carew landau is easily recognized, and after peering up and down the street I saw that it had moved up several doors. Without stopping to think or consider the consequences, I ran down the street to the carriage and opened the door——” She stopped, breathless.
“Go on, go on,” urged Douglas.
“I opened the door,” she repeated, “and, as God is my witness, I found Senator Carew sitting there—dead.”