She seemed to realize it, but there was a look of
triumph on her face as she understood.
She had not been mistaken. Warrington was all that she had thought
him to be.
He was looking eagerly into her face and as he looked he read in
it the answer to the questionings that had sent him off in the
early hours of the morning on his fateful ride to Tuxedo.
Dr. Mead cleared his throat. Miss Winslow recognised it as a
signal that the time was growing short for the interview.
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his, their eyes met
another instant, and with a hasty word of sympathy and
encouragement she left the room, conscious now that other eyes
were watching.
"Oh, to think it was to tell me that that he got into it all," she
cried, as she sank into a deep chair in the reception room,
endeavouring not to give way to her feelings, now that the strain
was off and she had no longer to keep a brave face. "I--I feel
guilty!"
"I wouldn't say that," soothed Garrick. "Who knows? Perhaps if he
had stayed in the city--they might have succeeded,--whoever it was
back of this thing.
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