“By placing the unsigned carbon copy of the codicil in the safe—” an ironical smile twisted the Admiral’s lips. “You improved on my instructions.”
Marjorie’s lovely hazel-gray eyes widened in horror as the meaning of his words dawned upon her.
“You are entirely mistaken,” she protested vehemently. “I put the codicil Mr. Alvord gave me in the safe—upon my word of honor!”
“I found the unsigned copy there an hour ago,” replied the Admiral steadily.
“The other must be there, too,” Marjorie moved impetuously toward the small safe which was partly hidden from sight by a revolving bookcase. “Let me look——”
“It is not necessary.” Marjorie wheeled about and her face crimsoned at the curtness of his tone. “I have just searched the entire contents of the safe—the signed codicil is not there.”
“You must be wrong,” gasped Marjorie. “Mr. Alvord had the carbon copy; how could I put it in the safe?”
“I have just telephoned Alvord,” said the Admiral quickly. “He declares he left the carbon copy on my desk.”
There was a ghastly pause. The Admiral glanced keenly at his silent companion, and his eyes lighted in reluctant admiration of her beauty. Unconscious of his scrutiny, Marjorie studied the pattern of the rug with unseeing eyes, striving to collect her confused thoughts.
“Are you engaged to Chichester Barnard?” inquired the Admiral, abruptly.