“But, Martin, I thought—”
Druce did not wait for the rest of the sentence. With a muttered oath he rushed outside and paid the waiting chauffeur.
“Now, what do you want?” he demanded when he returned.
Elsie looked at him piteously. “Martin,” she said, “I can’t stay in that place any longer.”
“Say, don’t my aunt treat you all right?”
The girl burst out sobbing. “She isn’t your aunt, Martin. She told me so herself. And that flat—”
“Well, what about it?”
“I—I can’t tell you. I can’t say it. I never knew until tonight.” Elsie clutched Druce’s arm pleadingly. “Martin,” she said, “a man came into my room.”
Druce saw that the time had come for him to lay his cards on the table. He folded his arms and looked at the girl.
“Well?” he demanded coolly.