“Come here?”
“It would be like her.” Tressa laughed. “Isn’t it odd that she should have become so enamoured of Mr. Benton—just seeing him there in the moonlight that night at Orchid Lodge?”
For a moment the smile curved her lips, then the shadow fell again across her eyes, veiling them in that strange and lovely way which Cleves knew so well; and he looked into her impenetrable eyes in troubled silence.
“Victor,” she said in a low voice, “were you afraid to tell me that your man had been murdered?”
After a moment: “You always know everything,” he said unsteadily. “When did you learn it?”
“Just before Mr. Recklow told you.”
“How did you learn it, Tressa?”
“I looked into our apartment.”
“When?”
“While you were telephoning.”