“That’s bad, Miss Gwen—very bad!” he said with a changed countenance. “I know well what you must suffer, poor girl. You love him—eh?”
“Very dearly.”
“And I am the cause of your estrangement,” he remarked in a low sympathetic tone.
“Ah! it was not your fault, Mr Mullet,” she cried, “I know that. Do not think that I am blaming you. The real blackguard is that red-faced man and his accomplice—the man who enticed me here on such a plausible pretext.”
“I am also to blame. Miss Gwen,” replied the big fellow with the bristly red moustache. “A deep game is being played, and, alas! I am compelled to be one of the players. It is being played against your father.”
“I know that,” she said. “I overheard Doctor Diamond telling my father how you had furnished him with a copy of that document describing the remarkable discovery of Professor Holmboe.”
“Hush!” cried Mullet quickly, glancing at the door that stood slightly ajar. “There’s nobody here, for the man who usually does for me is ill. Yet we’d better not discuss that action of mine, Miss Gwen. I only did it in order to repay in part a great service the little Doctor has rendered me. So,” he added, “the Doctor took the copy to your father?”
“Yes. He had previously, through Mr Farquhar, consulted my father regarding the half-burnt fragments in his possession. But the other day he came, bearing the full document, which they discussed for a couple of hours or more. Now, Mr Mullet,” she said, “you have been a very good and kind friend to me; therefore, I’m wondering if you would render us a further service?”
“Anything in my power I will most willingly do,” replied the blasé man, seeking permission to light his cigarette.
“I first want to know,” she exclaimed, “who is that blackguard who came here and demanded to know my father’s business?”