At the other end of the porch, close under a window, was an offset
between step and wall, and there in the shadow I hid. If Sampson or
Wright visited the girls that evening I wanted to hear what was said
about Steele.

It seemed to me that it might be a good clue for me--the circumstance
whether or not Diane Sampson was told the truth. So I waited there in
the darkness with patience born of many hours of like duty.

Presently the small lamp was lit--I could tell the difference in light
when the big one was burning--and I heard the swish of skirts.

"Something's happened, surely, Sally," I heard Miss Sampson say
anxiously. "Papa just met me in the hall and didn't speak. He seemed
pale, worried."

"Cousin George looked like a thundercloud," said Sally. "For once, he
didn't try to kiss me. Something's happened. Well, Diane, this has been
a bad day for me, too."

Plainly I heard Sally's sigh, and the little pathetic sound brought me
vividly out of my sordid business of suspicion and speculation. So she
was sorry.

"Bad for you, too?" replied Diane in amused surprise. "Oh, I see--I
forgot. You and Russ had it out."

"Out? We fought like the very old deuce. I'll never speak to him again."

"So your little--affair with Russ is all over?"