My threat caused her some consternation. I could see that from the way she fumed and fidgeted.
“To tell Lady Scarcliff such a thing would only be to throw a blame upon myself of which I am entirely innocent,” she protested. “I assure you that if I knew where she had gone, I would tell you.”
“No, pardon me, madam. You would not. You believe that I’m a detective.”
“Your actions certainly betray you,” she exclaimed resentfully. “You’ve been watching us closely—for what reason?”
“Well,” I replied slowly. “The fact is, I am fully aware of the secret love existing between Sybil Burnet and Arthur Rumbold.”
“Sybil and Arthur?” she cried, turning pale and looking me straight in the face. “What do you mean? Arthur—my boy, Arthur!”
I nodded in the affirmative.
“Who are you?” she exclaimed, starting up breathlessly from her chair. She was in fear of me, I saw. “Who are you that you should know this?” she gasped.
“William Morton,” was my cool reply. “I thought I sent my name up to you this morning!”