“Miss Thornton’s sex will not shield her,” declared the Secretary firmly, “if she be guilty—but, Mr. Winthrop, your story will also be investigated to the minutest detail. Until your innocence is proved without a shadow of a doubt you will consider yourself under arrest. Brett will see that the proper papers are made out.”
Winthrop blanched. “I’m—I’m—in no condition to go to jail,” he stammered. “It is monstrous!”
“Just a moment,” broke in Douglas. He had been deep in thought, and had paid but little attention to their conversation. “You say, Winthrop, that the letter file used to slay Senator Carew belonged to a desk set given to Miss Thornton by Miss Cynthia Carew.”
“I do,” exclaimed Winthrop positively.
Eleanor’s surprise was reflected in her uncle’s face. Was Douglas taking sides against her? Her eyes filled with tears, which she winked hastily away.
“Have you such a desk set, Eleanor?” demanded Douglas.
“Yes, Cynthia gave it to me last Christmas.”
“Is the letter file missing?”
The answer was slow in coming. “Yes,” she breathed faintly.