He must secure the co-operation of a clever detective, and with the assistance that he could lend, he hoped for the best.
His manner to Miss Chandler was affectionate, as usual, though there was never any particular amount of demonstration.
He felt that whatever the nature of his discoveries might be, they would not release him from his obligation, so that what he was doing was because of his love for Leonie and the fact that humanity demanded it.
As soon as consistency with his former habits would allow, he left the residence of his fiancee, fully convinced that there was a deadly secret, and determined that, for the sake of the innocent woman, he would fathom it.
"You seem in some way to have changed to me of late, Lynde," she said to him as he was leaving. "I feel that you are growing away from me. I am afraid that I destroyed my own chances for happiness upon that day that I forgot the modesty of my sex, and went to your office to plead with you for what I could not allow to be wrested from me without a struggle. I loved you, Lynde, and felt that to lose you would be worse than death. You do not despise me for my unwomanliness, do you? You will never forget the promise that you made to me on that day?"
"I will never forget that promise, Evelyn. You may be sure of that. You must not think that your act that day caused you to fall in my esteem. A woman loses none of the beauty of her sex because she loves. My promise is yours, and there is nothing that can release me from it but death."
She kissed him and let him go.
As the door closed upon him, she turned away with a short laugh.
"Fool!" she muttered. "He will keep his word, and under any circumstances I am safe."