Behind the judge stood his wife. Clancy immediately sensed a tenseness
in the atmosphere. As she gently released herself from the judge's
embrace and slipped into the arms of Mrs. Walbrough, what she sensed
became absolute knowledge. For the lips that touched her cheek trembled,
and in the eyes of Mrs. Walbrough stood tears.
Clancy drew away from her hostess. She looked at the judge, then back
again at Mrs. Walbrough, and then once again at the judge.
"Well?" she demanded.
"It isn't well," said the judge.
"But I thought you knew," said Clancy. "Miss Henderson gave me your
message. And that Spofford man saw me to-day, and told me that he didn't
believe I had anything to do----" She paused, eyeing the judge keenly.
She refused to be frightened. She wasn't going to be frightened again.
"Of course he doesn't! Spofford went to Vandervent this forenoon.
But--the newspapers," said the judge.
Clancy's lips rounded with an unuttered "Oh." She sank down upon a
chair; her hands dropped limply in her lap.
"What do they know?" she demanded.
The judge's reply was bitter.
"'Know?' Nothing! But a newspaper doesn't have to _know_ anything to
make trouble! If it merely suspects, that's enough. Look!"
He unfolded an evening newspaper and handed it to Clancy. There, black
as ink could make it, spreading the full length of the page, stood the
damnable statement,