Murchison heard the impassioned tones, the despairing appeal. They would have melted a heart of stone. What effect would they have upon the unsuspicious Jack?
Pomfret withdrew himself, almost coldly, from the proffered embrace. In a few seconds, as it seemed to Hugh, he had grown from a boy to a man.
He turned to the detective, and Hugh was delighted at the sudden dignity that seemed to have come to him.
"You seem to know a great deal about this man whom you have handcuffed, and who admits you are only doing your duty. Do you know anything about his sister, Miss Burton?"
Mr. Davidson glanced significantly at Murchison. They had arranged a little conversation between themselves, but Jack's frankness had rendered this unnecessary.
"What I know of the young lady, sir, I am sorry to tell you, is not to her credit. She has been associated with this man for some years. She started with him in Paris some time ago, when he was a card-sharper, and running a gambling-saloon. But to be fair, she is not in this business with him, and I have nothing against her."
"Are they what they represent themselves to be, brother and sister?" Pomfret's voice was very quiet, but there was in it a suppressed note of agony. How he had loved this girl, and a few hours ago he had clasped her in his arms as his wife!
The keen eyes of the detective softened as he looked at Jack, who was hiding the most intense agitation under an apparently stoical demeanour.
"I have no accurate information on that point, sir, but I should very much doubt the fact of their relationship."
While this brief conversation was taking place between Pomfret and Davidson, Norah was still standing with arms outstretched.