CHAPTER XVII.
THE DARKENING HORIZON.
“Well, nurse, I hardly expected that,” he said, reprovingly, his serious eyes fixed upon hers.
Jean turned scarlet, and then admitted, as she stood with her back to the writing table:
“I saw the photograph in your despatch-box, and it attracted me. Then I saw those papers.”
“And they seem to have greatly interested you, nurse—eh?” Darnborough remarked.
“A woman is always interested in what does not concern her,” she replied with a forced smile.
“Well, forgive me for saying so, but I consider it gross impertinence on your part to have pried into my papers, young lady,” exclaimed the chief of the Secret Service, with some asperity.
“I trust you will forgive me, Mr. Darnborough, but, truth to tell, I could not resist the temptation.”