"I don't know how it all happened," Monica went on. "She was doing so well on the stage. Then she met this man, Leo. The next thing she was up in the Yukon with him. He was prospecting. Then they were traveling down country—overland—with an Indian scout. That's when he deserted her. She only managed to reach me, in San Sabatano, through the aid of the scout. He gave her money. Money paid him for the trip." Then a world of contempt crept into her voice. "I suppose it was the coming of Elsie's baby which frightened him—the cowardly brute."
Hendrie nodded, his face studiously averted.
"Perhaps," he murmured. "But one can never be sure of such a man's motives."
"Motives?" There was unutterable scorn in the woman's voice. "And while he goes free, she, poor soul, is left to suffer and die—in the—gutter!"
"But—you sheltered her? You cared for her?"
The man's voice was almost pleading.
"Thank God, I could at least do that—but it was not through any doing of his. Oh, if only I had the punishing of such—as he."
"Perhaps he will get his punishment, even as you could desire it. Perhaps he has got it."
"I pray God it may be so."
Quite suddenly Hendrie turned about and faced her. His face was thrown into the shadow by the light of the window, which was now behind him.