"No doubt," I went on, more and more interested, "you also knew his very fascinating daughter."
A wave of colour crimsoned his face."Why are you asking me these questions, Mr. Lester?" he demanded."Because," I said, "the message I have is from that young lady, and is for a man named Frederic Swain."He was on his feet, staring at me, and all the blood was gone from his cheeks."A message!" he cried. "From her! From Marjorie! What is it, Mr. Lester? For God's sake....""Here it is," I said, and handed him the letter. He seized it, took one look at the address, then turned away to the window and ripped the envelope open.He unfolded the sheet of paper it contained, and as his eyes ran along it, his face grew whiter still. At last he raised his eyes and stared at me with the look of a man who felt the world tottering about him.