“Very true, my dear; but you seem inclined to speak in riddles.”

“Do you deny any knowledge of my chair cushion!”

“I do.”

“I must accept your statement, of course.  What do you wish to say to me, Miss Lord?”

“I would like to establish a more friendly understanding between us.  You are an intelligent girl and cannot fail to realize that I have taken a warm interest in your friend Mary Louise Burrows.  I want to know more about her, and about her people, who seem to have cast her off.  You are able to give me this information, I am sure, and by doing so you may be instrumental in assisting your friend materially.”

It was an odd speech; odd and insincere.  Irene studied the woman’s face curiously.

“Who are you, Miss Lord?” she inquired.

“Your neighbor.”

“Why are you our neighbor?”

“I am glad to be able to explain that—­to you, in confidence.  I am trying to clear the name of Colonel Weatherby from a grave charge—­the charge of high treason.”

“In other words, you are trying to discover where he is,” retorted Irene impatiently.

“No, my dear; you mistake me.  It is not important to my mission, at present, to know where Colonel Weatherby is staying.  I am merely seeking relevant information, such information as you are in a position to give me.”

“I, Miss Lord?”

“Yes.  To be perfectly frank, I want to see the letter which you found in that book.”

“Why should you attach any importance to that?”

“I was present, you will remember, when you discovered it.  I marked your surprise and perplexity—­your fear and uncertainty—­as you glanced first at the writing and then at Mary Louise.  You determined not to show your friend that letter because it would disturb her, yet you inadvertently admitted, in my hearing, that it referred to the girl’s mother and—­ which is vastly more important—­to her grandfather.”

“Well; what then, Miss Lord?”

“Colonel Weatherby is a man of mystery.  He has been hunted by Government agents for nearly ten years, during which time he has successfully eluded them.  If you know anything of the Government service you know it has a thousand eyes, ten thousand ears and a myriad of long arms to seize its malefactors.  It has not yet captured Colonel Weatherby.”

“Why has he been hunted all these years?”

“He is charged, as I said, with high treason.  By persistently evading capture he has tacitly admitted his guilt.”

“But he is innocent!” cried Irene indignantly.

Miss Lord seemed surprised, yet not altogether ill-pleased, at the involuntary exclamation.

“Indeed!” she said softly.  “Could you prove that statement?”

“I—­I think so,” stammered the girl, regretting her hasty avowal.

“Then why not do so and by restoring Mary Louise to her grandfather make them both happy?”