>From her signature his glance wandered to Sylvester's memorandum pad; it was uncanny the way his eye picked out the letter "B" as he stared at Clymer's note and its signature.Slowly his hand dropped away from the envelope and he left it lying forgotten on the desk as he picked up piece after piece of blotting paper, glancing intently at each and finally, pulling open a drawer of his desk, he hunted in feverish haste for a hand-mirror.
Some ten minutes later Kent rose, placed the papers he had been examining in the inside pocket of his coat and, using the private entrance from his office into the corridor, he hurried away.
When Helen McIntyre entered the office of Rochester and Kent for the second time that afternoon she found Sylvester transcribing stenographic notes on his typewriter.
"Mr.Kent is expecting you, miss," he said, holding open the inner office door, and with a courteous word of thanks, Helen passed the clerk and the door closed behind her.Kent rose at her approach and bowed formally.
"Take this chair," he suggested, and not until she was seated did Helen realize he had placed her where the light fell full upon her.
"I asked you to come here," he began, as she waited for him to speak, "Because I must have your confidence - if I am to aid you.Did you meet, recognize, and talk to Jimmie Turnbull in your house sometime between Monday midnight and his arrest on Tuesday morning?"She colored hotly, then paled."My testimony at the inquest,"- she commenced, but he gave her no opportunity to add more.
"Your testimony there does not cover the question," he explained.
"You stated then that you had not recognized Jimmie in the court room.Had you already penetrated his disguise at your house?""And if I had?"
"Did you?" Kent was doggedly persistent, and Helen's fingers closed around her handbag with convulsive force.Why had she not sent Barbara to see Kent in her place?
"Did I what?" she parried.
"Did you recognize and talk with Jimmie Turnbull in your house?""I talked with him, yes," she admitted, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"As Jimmie Turnbull or Smith the burglar?""As Jimmie" - she confessed, after a slight pause.
"Then why did you go through the farce of having Jimmie arrested as a burglar?" Kent demanded.
"So that Barbara might win her wager," promptly.Kent stared at her incredulously.
"Do you mean that, notwithstanding the risk to which you were subjecting him with his weak heart, you kept up the farce simply that Barbara might win an idiotic wager?" Kent asked.
Helen passed one nervous hand over the other; her palms were hot and dry, and two hectic spots had appeared in each white cheek.
"Jimmie was quite well Monday night," she protested."He - he - had some heart medicine with him."Amyl nitrite?"
"No."
"Nitro-glycerine?"
"I - I think that was it, I am not quite sure," she spoke with uncertainty, and Kent knew that she lied.His heart sank.
"Did he swallow any medicine in your presence?"She shook her head vigorously."No, he did not."Kent lowered his voice."Did you see him take Mrs.Brewster's aconitine pills off the hall table?"Helen shifted her gaze to his face and then back to her ever restless hands."No," she said."I did not see him take the pills."Kent studied her in a silence which, to her, seemed never-ending.
"I want the true answer to this question," he announced with meaning emphasis."Why did Jimmie go in disguise to your house on Monday night?"Helen blanched."How should I know," she muttered evasively."He - he didn't come to see me - the admission was barely above a whisper.
"But you know what transpired in your house on Monday night?"demanded Kent eagerly.
His question met with no response, and he repeated it, but still the girl remained silent.Kent gave her a moment's grace, then drawing out the unaddressed envelope from his pocket he held it toward her.A low cry broke from her, and her expression changed as she caught sight of the broken seal.
"You have opened it!"
"Not yet," Kent held the envelope just beyond her reach."I will only give it to you with the understanding that you open the envelope now in my presence and let me see its contents."Helen drew back, then impulsively extended her hand.
"I agree," she said."Give me the envelope.""Stop!" The word rang out, startling Kent as well as Helen, and Mrs.
Brewster, whose noiseless entrance a few seconds before had gone unobserved, hurried to them."The envelope is mine.
