Mrs. Winthrop shook her head. “She is still too prostrated to be interviewed.”
“Poor little soul! It was a ghastly experience for her,” ejaculated Colonel Thornton.
“It was indeed,” agreed Mrs. Winthrop. “She was devoted to her uncle, and he to her. Consequently the shock has driven her half out of her mind.”
“Miss Thornton—” Brett turned and faced Eleanor—“do you know to whom Miss Carew referred when she exclaimed on greeting you yesterday afternoon: ‘They quarreled, Eleanor, they quarreled!’”
Mrs. Winthrop caught her breath sharply.
“Why, her words referred to Hamilton, the coachman,” replied Eleanor quietly, and her eyes did not waver before Brett’s stern glance.
The detective broke the short silence which followed. “I won’t detain you longer, Mrs. Winthrop. I am exceedingly obliged to you for the information you have furnished. Mr. Hunter, are you coming down town?”
Douglas nodded an affirmative as he rose. Mrs. Winthrop and Colonel Thornton detained Brett with a question as he was leaving the room. Douglas seized his opportunity, and crossed over to Eleanor’s side.
“How have you been since I saw you last, Miss Thornton?” he inquired.
“Very well, thanks. And you?”—Eleanor inspected him with good-natured raillery: “You look—as serious as ever.”