“I want the true answer to this question,” he announced with meaning emphasis. “Why did Jimmie go in disguise to your house on Monday night?”
Helen blanched. “How should I know,” she muttered evasively. “He—he didn't come to see me—the admission was barely above a whisper.
“But you know what transpired in your house on Monday night?” demanded Kent eagerly.
His question met with no response, and he repeated it, but still the girl remained silent. Kent gave her a moment's grace, then drawing out the unaddressed envelope from his pocket he held it toward her. A low cry broke from her, and her expression changed as she caught sight of the broken seal.
“You have opened it!”
“Not yet,” Kent held the envelope just beyond her reach. “I will only give it to you with the understanding that you open the envelope now in my presence and let me see its contents.”
Helen drew back, then impulsively extended her hand.
“I agree,” she said. “Give me the envelope.”
“Stop!” The word rang out, startling Kent as well as Helen, and Mrs. Brewster, whose noiseless entrance a few seconds before had gone unobserved, hurried to them. “The envelope is mine.”