“Oh, then that was it!” The words came in a tone that frightened Bates by their burden of anguish.
“Yes, Miss Castleman,” he said. “And as to the row—Shirley saw a woman mistreated, and he interfered, and knocked a man down. I know the man, and he’s the sort one has to knock down. The only trouble was that he hit his head as he fell.”
“I see!” whispered Sylvia.
“But even so, there wouldn’t have been any publicity, except that some of the ‘Auburn Street crowd’ were there. They saw their chance to put the candidate of the ‘Yard’ out of the running; and they did it. It was a rotten shame, because everybody knew that Frank Shirley was not that kind of man——”
Bates stopped again. He could not bear the look he saw on Sylvia’s face. She bowed her head in her arms, and silent sobbing shook her. Then she got up and began to pace back and forth distractedly. He knew very well what was going on in her thoughts.
Suddenly she turned upon him. “Mr. Bates,” she exclaimed, “you must help me! You must stay here and help me!”
“Certainly, Miss Castleman. What can I do?”
“In the first place, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. You understand?”
“Of course.”
“Have you any idea where Frank Shirley is?”