But Mrs. Darlington had probed the real significance of his words.
“You don’t mean to say that they have—arrested him?”
Robles nodded gravely. “That’s how the law acts. A man under suspicion must be taken into custody—he must be charged so that he can refute the shameful calumny.”
Merle had dropped into a settee—white and speechless. Her lips trembled. Then she burst into a passion of weeping, burying her face against an arm flung across the upholstery.
Mrs. Darlington moved forward quickly to comfort the sobbing girl.
“Oh, don’t take on like this, my dear child. The arrest was a mere formality. He will be immediately set at liberty.”
Merle raised her tear-stained face. She spoke in gulping sobs.
“But, mother, I never told you—I shrank from telling any of you. While you and Grace were away this afternoon, Marshall Thurston called and wanted to make love to me—he even dared to try to kiss me. Tia Teresa flung him out of the rose garden. It was I who made Tia Teresa promise to say nothing about it to anyone. I feared trouble. And, oh, trouble, terrible trouble, has already come.” Again she bowed her head and continued weeping, but quietly weeping now. Grace was bending over her, patting her shoulder in soothing sympathy.
Mrs. Darlington’s eyes met those of Robles.
“This may prove serious,” she said softly, that Merle might not overhear.