She spoke with trembling earnestness, stopping in the street and walking on again with uncertain steps, as though she hardly knew where her feet led her. Her eyes were raised to Bob’s with such eloquent entreaty that he felt himself powerless to refuse her. He wished Larry, who owed Elizabeth nothing, would speak and urge on her the necessity for frankness. But Larry strode along in what seemed like silent disapproval. After a pause Bob said, his voice betraying his dissatisfaction:
“Elizabeth, of course I trust you. But I don’t see why you can’t trust me. I trust you so much that I’ll tell you right now that Franz Kraft is under suspicion, and is the last person to take into your confidence. He’s a regular bad hat——”
“Oh, no, Mr. Bob—surely you are wrong!” cried Elizabeth, in what seemed real dismay. “He is a rough countryman, without speech or manners, but kind and generous. He has not the wits for plotting. Surely you mistake him.”
She spoke as though combating sudden anxious thoughts. Bob wondered if she were not trying to convince herself of Franz’ sincerity as much as to convince him.
“Elizabeth,” he said, “when are you going to meet him again?”
She answered frankly, “One week from to-day, at the same hour. You will not of it speak, dear Mr. Bob?” She eyed Larry uncertainly and, as though guessing his suspicions, she added quickly, “It with politics nothing has to do. It is a private secret only.”
“Then why not tell me?” asked Bob.
“After next time I will tell you all,” Elizabeth promised. “Until then,” she begged, “will you nothing to anyone say?”
“I’ll say nothing, but I don’t promise not to watch Franz. I tell you, Elizabeth, I don’t believe in him, and if you make friends with such as he, you will have to share the suspicions that fall upon him.”
Elizabeth sighed deeply, but she made no more protests, and with no further satisfaction Bob parted with her at Larry’s door.