Seton laughed heartily, and so did Margaret and Rita.
“Right!” cried Seton. “She did. When last heard of she was acting as barmaid in a Portsmouth tavern!”
But Monte Irvin did not laugh.
“Poor, foolish girl!” he said gravely. “Her life might have been so different—so useful and happy.”
“I agree,” replied Seton, “if she had had a husband like Kerry.”
“Oh, please don’t!” said Margaret. “I almost fell in love with Chief Inspector Kerry myself.”
“A grand fellow!” declared her husband warmly. “The Kazmah inquiry was the triumph of his career.”
Monte Irvin turned to him.
“You did your bit, Seton,” he said quietly. “The last words Inspector Kerry spoke to me before I left England were in the nature of a splendid tribute to yourself, but I will spare your blushes.”
“Kerry is as white as they’re made,” replied Seton, “but we should never have known for certain who killed Sir Lucien if he had not risked his life in that filthy cellar as he did.”