“He is—he was—my husband.”
“Miss Bush!”
“We were separated. But——” She stopped in agitation, pulled down her veil, and turned her face away. Jacquelin watched her in silent sympathy.
“I am sure it was his fault,” he said.
“Yes, I think it was,” brokenly, from under her veil. “He was not very kind to me. But I cannot forget that he was my husband, and the father of my child.”
“I will do what I can for you,” Jacquelin said, kindly. “Tell me how you think I can help him. What do you know of him?”
She composed herself, and told him what she knew. She knew where Leech was, and the conditions under which he was held. She wanted Jacquelin to interfere personally. This alone would save him, she believed. The difficulty was to get Jacquelin free. Here her powers failed, and she sat looking at Jacquelin in hopeless anxiety.
Jacquelin thought deeply. Suddenly he roused himself.
“All right, Miss Bush. I will see what I can do. You are just in time. The order has come this evening, I hear, for us to go to the city to-morrow. I have never asked a favor of my keepers; but I will do it for you, and, if you will wait in here, I will let you know if there is any chance.”