"No, Cardemon keeps none. And its mostly his estate."
"Oh … Any—h'm!—vicious men—in his employment?"
"My God!" whispered Neville, "what do you mean, Billy?"
"Finger imprints—black and blue—on both arms. Didn't Miss West say anything that might enlighten you?"
"No … She only said she had been lost…. Wait a moment; I'm trying to think of the men Cardemon employs—"
He was ashy white and trembling, and the doctor laid a steadying hand on his arm.
"Hold on, Louis," he said sharply, "it was no worse than a fright. Do you understand?… And do you understand, too, that an innocent and sensitive and modest girl would rather die than have such a thing made public through your well-meant activity? So there's nothing for anybody to do—yet."
Neville could scarcely speak.
"Do you mean—she was attacked by some—man!"
"It looks like it. And—you'd better keep it from your family—because she did. She's game to the core—that little girl."