"If ever a trust was carried out truly, yours has been, Mon."
The man's arms were about her, and he gently drew her to him. He gazed tenderly down upon her now tear-stained face.
"No woman could have done more than you have," he went on. "If things have gone awry it is no fault of yours." He smoothed her beautiful hair with one tender hand. "I give you my sacred word your Frank shall be released. I swear it by the memory of your poor dead sister. I can still undo the mischief which my mad jealousy has wrought, and your—Elsie will forgive."
He bent and kissed her upturned face, while she clung to him for support.
"Yes, yes, she will forgive. It was her nature to forgive," Monica said, in a wave of tender memory. "To the last she would not hear one word against the wretched father of her boy. Do you know, Alec, I sometimes wonder that Heaven allows such men to go about working their cruel mischief upon trusting women."
Hendrie stirred uneasily, and his arms gently released her.
"Tell me of her—of him," he said, his eyes turned upon the streaming light from the street lamps.
Monica became thoughtful.
"I know so little about him," she said, after a slight pause. "You see, I never saw him; and Elsie—she would say so little. It seems she met him in New York. I forgot to tell you Elsie was an actress. She acted under the name of Audie Thorne."
The man started. Then, slowly, his eyes came back to her face. Fortunately their expression was lost upon her, and, before she could turn in his direction, he was once more gazing out at the brilliant light which, somehow, he was no longer aware of. He was listening to his wife's voice, but her words conveyed little enough to him now. His mind was far back in a dim, almost forgotten past.