WHITEWASH
I meant. Dare I produce my informant?—and all the rest of it. My dear man, I should not have made that assertion had I not been perfectly prepared to do so. You have a cab? Good! It will save time, and I must be back by twelve. My typewriter, you know." She smiled sweetly, and preceded him into the hall.
He assisted her into the hansom and took his seat. "Where to?" he asked, his curiosity piercing his indifferent manner.
"To your uncle Morris Courncey's office."
Morton gave the address in bewilderment.
"I'll tell you a few things about this, if you like," said Mrs. Durham, leaning back quite at her ease, and not in the least flustered. "Your good old relative was a great friend of Victoria's parents, you see, and some of this nasty gossip concerning the daughter reached his ears. Of course, he made up his mind to discover who had originated the said slander. He came to me—we were old pals, too, as it happened, and he likewise knew me to be a great admirer and an unswerving friend of Victoria's." There was the
