"
"Was she hurt?"
"Yes."
"Badly?"
"I think not. There was some concussion of the brain, I suppose. She was
quite dazed."
"Did you call a doctor?"
"No. She wouldn't have one."
"You know Miss Van Arsdale, don't you?"
"She's the best friend I've got in the world," returned Banneker, so
impulsively that his interrogator looked at him curiously before
continuing:
"Did you see Io at her house?"
"Yes; frequently," replied Banneker, wondering to what this all tended,
but resolved to be as frank as was compatible with discretion.
"How did she seem?"
"She was as well off there as she could be anywhere."
"Yes. But how did she seem? Mentally, I mean."
"Oh, that! The dazed condition cleared up at once."
"I wish I were sure that it had ever cleared up," muttered Densmore.
"Why shouldn't you be sure?"
"I'm going to be frank with you because I think you may be able to help
me with a clue. Since she came back from the West, Io has been unlike
herself. The family has never understood her marriage with Del Eyre. She
didn't really care for Del. [To his dismay, Banneker here beheld the
glowing tip of his cigar perform sundry involuntary dips and curves. He
hoped that his face was under better control.] The marriage was a
fizzle.
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