"Oh, I know there is; but never mind," she continued, still holding his hand. "I had to see you to-night, Charlie. I could not have waited longer."
"Is it about Albert Frazier?" he asked.
"No, you know it is not. Besides, he has gone away for good and all. He released me from my—my understanding with him. We are not even going to write to each other."
The heart of the listener bounded, but it sank a moment later, for, pressing his hand, as if to console him, Mary went on:
"I wanted to see you about yourself, Charlie—yourself."
"I can guess," he said, grimly. "It has to do with the sheriff's visit the other day. I felt that something was wrong from the way your father acted. He tries to treat me the same, but can't."
Mary lowered her head. She toyed with his big fingers as a nervous child might have done. "I think Albert started his brother's suspicions against you soon after you came to us," she said, gently.
"Suspicions?" Charles was speaking merely to fill awkward pauses.
"Yes, it is outrageous, but he has you mixed up with the men who left the circus when you did. I suppose his idea is to get information from you if he can—force it from you by unfair means. A man like him will balk at nothing to gain his point."
"I can give him no information," Charles answered, in a low, forced tone. "I knew such men were with the circus, and that they had left about the time I did, but I did not even know them personally."