“Have you seen Mr. Gordon?”
“No,” vexedly. “Gordon still declines to see anyone, and his lawyers are equally reticent. He even refused to allow them to apply for bail.”
“I thought a man arrested on a charge of murder was never permitted to be bailed out?”
“Oh, it has been done in the District on several occasions. I am told Gordon takes the situation very calmly.”
“My heart aches for him. It is like him to face his troubles so bravely. What has the Navy Department done about him, Dick?”
“Done? Oh, nothing. They cannot take any steps in the affair until after the Civil Court decides whether he is innocent or guilty. Now, Peggy,” he went on, glancing at her sorrowful face, “I don’t want you to make yourself ill worrying, so I am going to tell you in strict confidence that the Attorney General is convinced that Mrs. Trevor was a victim of the Camorra. But mind you,” as her face brightened with relief, “he has no direct evidence, only surmise and a threat to go upon, so far. But he is sending for the head of Pinkerton’s Agency to investigate these clews. If necessary he will communicate direct with the Italian Government.”
“That is splendid!” exclaimed Peggy, her eyes shining with relief. “But then,” again perplexed, “why should Beatrice secrete the top of her hat-pin?”
“It is bewildering,” acknowledged Dick. “Perhaps she accidentally found the broken pin and did not dare confess that she had it, thinking it might involve her in further difficulties with the police.”
“Of course that is it,” agreed Peggy. “Under the same circumstances I might have done the same myself. I am so glad I consulted you, Dick. You have taken a weight off my mind. Can’t you stay and have tea with me?”
“I am sorry that I cannot. I must hurry off. At present I am covering the Russian Grand Duke’s visit here for an out-of-town paper, and am to have an interview with his Chief-of-Staff at five o’clock. If anything else turns up let me know, and above all—” his tone was very tender—“take care of your precious self.”