With this Mrs. Constant went away, after saying to Edith, who had been an interested listener, that now, having met again, they must not lose sight of each other.
“What do you think of it, Nick?” asked Edith.
“A rather strange story, but there is more behind it than she has told—perhaps more than she really knows. When you knew her what sort of reputation did she bear?”
“The very best,” declared Edith. “Blanche was a good girl, Nick. She was so light-hearted and full of spirits in those days, so gay, that sometimes she was misunderstood, but there was not the least harm in her.”
“Well, Edith, I fancy you will have some detective work to do.”
“In what way?”
“She knows more than she thinks she does. You must get her to talk confidentially to you, and these things may crop out.
“Again, there are things she shied away from telling me, especially when you were present, but she will tell them to you.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
After dinner that evening Nick went out for a short time, and, returning, as he was about entering his house a carriage drove up and some one, leaning from it, called him by name.