“Before answering your question,” she said, “I wish to put one to you. It is this: Do you think it improper for a lady to visit a gentleman’s sick chamber alone, when she has that to say which she does not care to have overheard?”
She had not long to wait for an answer.
“Most assuredly not; but you talk in enigmas to me.”
“I am Hilton Field’s daughter.”
Nick Carter almost lost his breath in astonishment.
“Hilton Field’s daughter!” he muttered.
“Yes,” Mignon replied; “and I would not have anyone else come and thank you for the message you sent to us yesterday afternoon but myself.”
“Message?” repeated Nick, amazed. “Why, I sent no message.”
“You forget, perhaps,” she said, and again that kind, sweet smile overspread her features. “Don’t you remember you sent to say that the body found in the river was not father’s, although it had on his clothing?”
“I did not know myself yesterday afternoon,” said the detective, “of the imposture. I only learned it last night, and I have not spoken of the discovery to a living soul. There must be some other friend at work for you. Was my name signed to the message?”