“I beg your pardon, Mr. Ethan,” he explained hurriedly. “I see your mistake, sir, but you said as how you’d met the young lady, and I thought you understood as how that wasn’t her, sir.”
“What? Who?”
“Wasn’t Miss Devereux, sir.”
“Do you mean that this isn’t Miss Devereux here in this picture?” cried Ethan.
“Yes, sir; that is, no, sir. That isn’t her, Mr. Ethan.”
“Isn’t—! Then who is it?”
“Miss Hoyt, sir. I thought you under——”
Ethan took Billings by the arms and forced him into a chair.
“You sit there and answer my questions, Billings,” he commanded excitedly. He held the photograph before the gardener’s alarmed face.
“Who is this in the picture?”