De Smirnoff nodded his head. “I must take steps to have this Monsieur Clark apprehended,” he said. “According to Count de Morny, Madame Trevor,” he raised his glass and examined its contents critically, “Madame Trevor was not—a good woman.”
CHAPTER XX
CASTING OF NETS
Dick was awakened out of a sound sleep the next morning by a loud banging on his door.
“Come in,” he shouted, sleepily; then, realizing that the disturber of his peace could not crawl through the keyhole, he scrambled out of bed, unlocked the door and jerked it open.
“I ax yo’ pardon, Marse Dick,” said Uncle Andy, bowing and scraping on the threshold, “but dis hyer note done come fo’ yo’, an’ de bearer am waitin’ fo’ an answer, sah.” As he spoke he handed Dick a sealed envelope and a small package.
“Wait a minute, Uncle, and I’ll see what it’s about,” and Dick, going inside his room, plumped himself down on the edge of his bed and tore open the note. Not recognizing the bold, clear writing, he turned at once to read the signature on the last page. It was from Beatrice Trevor. With quickened interest, he read the few lines.
Dear Mr. Tillinghast:
My father tells me that you are doing your best to clear up the terrible mystery which surrounds our house. I am in great trouble. I must see you.
I am going to dine alone with Mrs. Macallister to-night. Will you come there at eight o’clock? I have told Wilkins to wait for your answer.
Sincerely yours,
Beatrice Trevor.