Standing unsteadily, she put her hand on his arm.

She let him see that doubt had gone, and how this stab of disloyalty pained her.
"Spies! My own women!...

Oh, miserable!" she cried, with flashing, tearful eyes.
"I hate to tell you," he replied.

By that she knew he had long spared her.

"It's begun again--that work in the dark." "Nay, Lassiter--it never stopped!" So bitter certainty claimed her at last, and trust fled Withersteen House and fled forever.