"
"The ingrate!" exclaimed the girl, laying a warm, consoling hand on the
other's arm. "You're sure he wasn't drinking?"
"I don't think so, miss. Just the sight of me seemed to drive him mad.
Flung money at me, he did, told me to get out, that he never wanted to
see me again. Since then I have tried for three weeks to find work,
but it has been useless."
While she gave him a word of sympathy, Miss Donovan was busily
thinking. She remembered Willis's remark in the apartments, "Are you
sure of the dead man's identity? His face is badly mutilated, you
know"; and her alert mind sensed a possibility of a newspaper story
back of young Cavendish's unwarranted and strange act. How far could
she question the man before her? That she had established herself in
his good grace she was sure, and to be direct with him she decided
would be the best course to adopt.
"Mr. Valois," she said kindly, "would you mind if I asked you a
question or two more?"
"No," the man returned.
"All right. First, what sort of a man was your master?"
Valois answered almost with reverence:
"A nice, quiet gentleman.
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