AN INVOLUNTARY EAVESDROPPER
As she heard the words Edith Morriston stood for a moment as though transfixed, and then staggered back grasping at a tombstone for support. Gifford took a quick step forward, but before he could be of help she had recovered from the shock, and motioning him back, was looking at him with incredulous eyes.
"You were there?" she repeated, with more suspicion now than unbelief.
"In that room at the top of the tower; yes; by accident," he answered in a tone calculated to reassure her.
"Then you know—you saw what happened?"
He bowed his head in assent. "Enough to be sure that Mr. Clement Henshaw was a great scoundrel, and that his fate was not altogether unmerited. Now," he added in a tone of decision, "you will have nothing more to do with this Gervase Henshaw, or he with you."
It was good to see the eager relief in Edith Morriston's eyes.
"And you never told me this before," she said.
"I could not very well," he replied. "And I should not have told you now had I not been forced to protect you from this man. It is a dangerous position for me to stand in, and I should in ordinary circumstances have let the affair remain a mystery."
"I understand your position," she responded, with a look of gratitude.
"But you can trust me."