“He handed a note under the door, begging your father to see him.”
“But how do you know this?” she said breathlessly.
He pulled out his pocket book without a word, and handed her the card. She looked at it, turning it over in her hand, and gave it back to him.
“I found this in the room at the first examination, and Mrs. Simmons afterwards told me the truth.”
“Did he see my father?” she asked.
“No; he would not see him.”
“And—have you told this to the police?”
“No,” replied he; “I work independently. I have not told a soul.”
Tears came into her eyes.
“How good of you, and he has treated you so badly all the time, and you never said a word. Of course you don’t really suspect him, but you might have given him an awful time.”