The detective, in spite of this assurance, lowered his voice.
“Whatever became of your sister, Mr. Lamont?”
There was a quick start, and the face of the millionaire got white.
“I never had a sister,” said he, with an effort.
“Make sure of that. Whatever became of her, I ask?”
Lamont looked around the room like a wild beast seeking a loophole of escape, but seeing none he came back to the detective.
“Pardon me for trying to deceive you,” said he. “That is the black spot on our family history. I had a sister once. But she is dead now.”
“Her name was——”
“Hester.”
“And you say she is dead?”