"From all inquirers."
"Are there likely to be many?" he asked, quizzically.
"That I can not say."
Roderick lay back in his chair and pondered, keeping his eyes fixed upon my face.
"Under ordinary circumstances," he said, after a pause, "I should, of course, respect your desire for secrecy and say no more about the matter. But there are reasons which make the identity of this child of vital interest to me."
I could not answer: there was now nothing I could say without revealing the secret I was pledged to keep.
"You will pardon me for saying further that I strongly suspect I am the person toward whom you are pledged to maintain this secrecy."
"You!" I repeated. "Why, surely you are in a singular mood to-night, full of fancies and suspicions!"
"For which I have good and sufficient reasons. Are yours equally so for maintaining this secrecy?"