Florence slowly shook her head. “I don't think so,” she said.
“Why not?” asked Edna, quickly, with a searching look. “Has he been making love to you?”
Florence blushed. “I can hardly put it as positively as that,” she answered, reluctantly.
“He might have undertaken to act for Davenport, and still have fallen in love,” suggested Larcher.
“Yes, I daresay, Tom, you know the treachery men are capable of,” put in Edna. “But if he did that—if he was in Davenport's confidence, and yet spoke of love, or showed it—he was false to Davenport. And so in any case he's got to give an account of himself.”
“How are we to make him do it?” asked Larcher.
Edna, by a glance, passed the question on to Florence.
“We must go cautiously,” Florence said, gazing into the fire. “We don't know what occurred between him and Murray. He may have been for Murray; or he may have been against him. They may have acted together in bringing about his—departure from New York. Or Turl may have caused it for his own purposes. We must draw the truth from him—we must have him where he can't elude us.”
Larcher was surprised at her intensity of resolution, her implacability toward Turl on the supposition of his having borne an adverse part toward Davenport. It was plain she would allow consideration for no one to stand in her way, where light on Davenport's fate was promised.
“You mean that we should force matters?—not wait and watch for other circumstances to come out?” queried Larcher.