Mrs. Winthrop glanced interrogatively at Thornton. “What shall I do?”
“Perhaps it would be just as well to see them,” he replied.
“Very well. James, show the gentlemen in here,” and, as the servant hastened out of the room, she turned to her two guests. “You must be present at this interview, and I depend on you, Colonel Thornton, to check any undue inquisitiveness on the part of the detective.”
“I will, madam,” and Thornton’s grim tone conveyed more than the mere words. He ranked as one of the leaders of the District bar, and few opposing lawyers dared take liberties with him when trying a case.
Eleanor made a motion to rise, but Mrs. Winthrop checked her with a low-toned “Wait, dear,” as Brett, followed by Douglas Hunter, strode into the room.
Mrs. Winthrop acknowledged Brett’s bow with a courteous inclination of her head, but, as he murmured Douglas’ name in introducing him, she rose and shook hands with him.
“I have frequently heard my brother speak of you, Mr. Hunter,” she said, “and have regretted not meeting you before,” and, as Douglas voiced his thanks, she added, “Eleanor, Mr. Hunter”—and Douglas gazed deep into the beautiful eyes which had haunted his memory since their last meeting in Paris. For one second his glance held hers, while a soft blush mantled her cheeks; then Colonel Thornton stepped forward briskly and extended his hand.
“No need of an introduction here, Douglas,” he said heartily. “I should have known you anywhere from your likeness to your father, though I haven’t seen you since you wore knickerbockers.”
“I haven’t forgotten ‘Thornton’s Nest,’ nor you either, Colonel,” exclaimed Douglas, clasping his hand warmly. “I about lived on your grounds before I went to boarding school.”
“Pray be seated, gentlemen,” and, in obedience to Mrs. Winthrop’s gesture, Douglas pulled up a chair near hers, while Brett and Colonel Thornton did likewise. “Now, Mr. Brett, what do you wish to ask me?”