Did you also have the fake telegram delivered to me stating
Mr. Rochester was in Cleveland?"
"I faked that," broke in Rochester, before the clerk could make a
disclaimer. "I thought it best to disappear for a few days down in
Virginia, where I could think things over in peace."
"So it was you, Sylvester, and not Mr. Rochester whom I encountered
in his apartment," exclaimed Kent. "How did you get in the
apartment?"
"From the fire-escape and along the window ledge to the bathroom
window." Sylvester hitched his shoulders. "It was nothing for a
man of my agility."
Ferguson eyed him with doubtful respect.
"You have courage," he admitted grudgingly. "Come, we must get to
Headquarters," and he aided Sylvester to his feet, but once standing,
Sylvester refused to move. Instead he turned to Helen.
"What was that you passed to Mr. Rochester in the police court and
he later gave to Mr. Turnbull?" he asked. "Oh, don't deny it, I
saw you palm a note, Mr. Rochester, from the young lady."
"There is nothing now to conceal," declared Helen.
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