"Why not?"
"Oh—I—I am just afraid—that's all."
There was real fear in her tone and face now, fear for herself.
"Where is the body?" asked Kennedy, to get her mind off whatever hung like an incubus over it.
"Down on the Haytien, at the pier, over in Brooklyn, still," she replied. "They kept us all interned there. But my guardian had enough influence to get off for a time and while he is arranging for quarters for our stay after we are released, I slipped away to see you."
"You must go back to the boat?"
"Oh, yes. We agreed to go back."
"Then I shall be down immediately," Craig promised. "If you will go ahead, I will see you there. Perhaps, at first you had better not recognize me. I will contrive some way to meet you. Then they will not know."
"Thank you," she murmured, as she rose to go, now in doubt whether she had done the best thing to come to Craig, now glad that she had some outside assistance in which she could trust.
He accompanied her to the door, bidding her keep up her courage, then closed it, waiting until her footsteps down the hall had died away.