"Have you found out anything?"
Langholm hesitated.
"Yes."
Why should he lie?
"Do you mean to say that you have any suspicion who it is?" Severino was
on his elbow.
"More than a suspicion. I am certain. There can be no doubt about it. A
pure fluke gave me the clew, but every mortal thing fits it."
Severino dropped back upon his pillow. Langholm seemed glad to talk to
him, to loosen his tongue, to unburden his heart ever so little. And,
indeed, he was glad.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"That's my difficulty. She must be cleared before the world. That is the
first duty--if it could be done without--making bad almost worse!"
"Bad--worse? How could it, Langholm?"
No answer.
"Who do you say it is?"
No answer again. Langholm had not bargained to say anything to anybody
just yet.
Severino raised himself once more upon an elbow.
"I must know!" he said.
Langholm rose, laughing.
"I'll tell you who I thought it was at first," said he, heartily. "I
don't mind telling you that, because it was so absurd; and I think
you'll be the first to laugh at it. I was idiot enough to think it might
be you, my poor, dear chap!"
"And you don't think so still?" asked Severino, harshly.
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