"You have never spoken to him of your suspicions? Asked him?"
"Yes and no. I tried once, and shall never forget the expression of his face. Then he turned on me in a perfect paroxysm of anger. I never even dared hint at the matter again."
The Sergeant stared out into the street, not knowing what to say, or how to advise. Almost unconscious of the action his hand stole along the rail until it touched hers.
"If the woman has not ensnared him by her usual methods," he said soberly, "and I think myself you are right about that, for I watched them together in the dance hall—I did not comprehend what it meant then, but it seemed to me he actually disliked being in her company—then she has uncovered something in his past of which he is afraid, something unknown to you, which he does not desire you ever to know."
"Yes," softly, "that must be true."
"No; it may not be true; it may all be a lie, concocted for a purpose. A clever woman might so manipulate circumstances as to convince him she held his fate in her hands. We must find that out in this case."
"But how, Sergeant Hamlin? He will not tell me."
"Perhaps she will tell me if I can reach her alone," he said grimly, "or else that husband of hers—Dupont. He 'll know the whole story. It would give me pleasure to choke it out of him—real pleasure. Then there 's Connors, just the sort of sneaking rat if he can be caught with the goods; only it is not likely he knows much. I shall have to think it all out, Miss Molly," he smiled at her confidently. "You see, I am a bit slow figuring puzzles, but I generally get them in time. You 've told me all you know?"
"Everything. It almost seems silly when I try to explain what I feel to another."
"Not to me. I knew enough before to understand. But, perhaps, you had better go—hush, some one is entering the parlor."