“Well,” she said, “I always had a suspicion that Stanley went in fear of Ruthen. Why, I don’t know.”
“That’s curious. What made you think so?”
“From certain remarks he once let drop.”
“Then Audley may be hiding purposely from that fellow?” I exclaimed, as I recollected that queer conversation between Ruthen and Thelma.
“I have thought that possible, but even then, he could easily write to me in confidence, and tell me where he is,” said the girl.
“Where does Ruthen live?” I enquired.
“In Whitehall Court,” and she gave me the number.
“You have no idea what his profession may be?”
“Like Stanley—he is independent.”
“Audley is a rich man, isn’t he?” I asked.