"The Ilingsworth case," he repeated scornfully, meaningly.
"They—the maid—ushered me in here," went on the woman.
"What maid?" demanded the Governor, puzzled. "I have no maid. And, what's more, I didn't write this letter—it's something that I cannot understand."
"It's something that we do not wish to understand," said Wilkinson, suggestively.
"I told you I would come whenever you wanted me," murmured Madeline Braine, waving the note, in her agitation, toward the Governor, "and I came."
Wilkinson chuckled inwardly. In an instant he turned to his daughter and whispered in a voice that could be heard all over the room:
"Leslie, clearly this is no place for you. A Governor who turns his apartments into.... Come, dear!" And he made a hurried movement to go. But the Governor was too quick for him and blocked his path. His face had gone white with anger; he cried out:
"What do you mean, sir?"
Wilkinson sneered.
"Do you want me to say it here?"