” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. The girl nodded sagely. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. I speak no harm of her. I only want to know the truth, and I will move heaven and earth to have it set aside.
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