"Now tell Florence
all about it, from the beginning."
"Have you told her whom it concerns?" he asked Edna.
"I haven't told her a word."
"Well, then, I think she'd better know first"--he turned to
Florence--"that it concerns somebody we met through her--through you,
Miss Kenby. But we think the importance of the matter justifies--"
"Oh, that's all right," broke in Edna. "He's nothing to Florence. We're
perfectly free to speak of him as we like.--It's about Mr. Turl, dear."
"Mr. Turl?" There was something eager in Florence's surprise, a more than
expected readiness to hear.
"Why," said Larcher, struck by her expression, "have _you_ noticed
anything about his conduct--anything odd?"
"I'm not sure. I'll hear you first. One or two things have made me
think."
"Things in connection with somebody we know?" queried Larcher.
"Yes."
"With--Murray Davenport?"
"Yes--tell me what you know." Florence's eyes were poignantly intent.
Larcher made rapid work of his story, in impatience for hers. His
relation deeply impressed her. As soon as he had done, she began, in
suppressed excitement:
"With all those circumstances--there can be no doubt he knows something.
And two things I can add. He spoke once as if he had seen me in the
past;--I mean before the disappearance. What makes that strange is, I
don't remember having ever met him before. And stranger still, the other
thing I noticed: he seemed so sure Murray would never come back"--her
voice quivered, but she resumed in a moment: "He _must_ know something
about the disappearance.
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