“Oh, I’ll continue to do so, Mr. Carter, as I agreed with you yesterday morning,” Paulding assured him. “It’s a bitter pill for an innocent man to swallow, but I’ll not weaken. I’ll stick, sir, as long as I know you are working for me.”
“You may depend upon that,” the detective said simply.
“Thank Heaven, too, there is one rift in the clouds,” Paulding added.
“What is that?”
“A letter from Edna Thurlow. It came this morning. She expresses her sympathy for me, her belief that I am a victim of circumstances, and assures me of her absolute faith in my innocence.”
“Good for her!” said Carter, smiling. “It’s very significant, too.”
“Significant?”
“Surely,” laughed the detective. “A girl writes like that only to one she loves. You were not quite sure of it, you remember. This ought to convince you and really make it worth while to be suspected.”
“I’m not sure but it does,” replied Paulding, brightening up. “I do regret one restriction, however, that you have imposed on me. It’s a thorn in my flesh.”
“I know it,” said the detective tersely.