and I find she isn't there. She deceived me and I had reason--I heard
something tonight that made me think--" She stopped. It was horrible to
state to this man, now frankly abhorred, what she suspected. There was a
slight pause while he waited with an air of cold forbearance.

"Well," he said at length, "would it be too much trouble to tell me what
you think?"

She had to say it:

"That she had gone to you."

"To _me_?" He was incredulous, astounded.

"Yes. Had run away with you."

"What reason had you for thinking such a thing?"

She made a step forward, ignoring the question.

"She isn't here--I can see that--but where is she?"

"How should I know?"

"Because you must know something about her, because you _do_ know.
Chrystie of herself wouldn't tell me lies; someone's made her do it,
_you've_ made her do it."

"Really, Miss Alston--"