She tried to prevent the crimson from rushing over her face as she felt it doing, but the effort was without avail.
The others passed from the room as though they had not observed the aside.
"There were a few questions that I wanted to ask you about the—funeral," Lynde stammered, when they were alone and the door had been closed. "I thought, perhaps, you might not care to have it talked of before the others. Will Mr. and Mrs. Chandler attend to everything, or do you do it?"
"They wished it all to be just as though none of this horrible recent past had taken place. They believe with me that she has been insane for years."
"That is all, then. And, Leonie, something must be done about that will very soon. When can you give me an hour to speak of that?"
"Oh, Lynde, why do you torture me with that old question? You know that I will never have anything to do with it. But there is one thing that I wish you would do. Where is the necessity for prosecuting that poor man, Luis Kingsley? Surely losing all his fortune is punishment enough for what he has done."
He looked at her curiously a moment, and said:
"But I must do it if that will is admitted to probate. There is just one way that he can be saved, and that is for you to make your claim to the money, and prove it valid. Otherwise he must suffer."
He knew that she was not sufficiently a lawyer to know whether he was telling the truth or not, and he also knew that, under the circumstances, the point he had made was a strong one.
She gazed at him a moment; then her lips began to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears.