At sight of his uniform and failing to recognize him in his disguise the girl turned pale and uttered a frightened exclamation.
“Don’t be alarmed, dear,” the man at her side reassured her, smiling down upon her, “this is only officer––” He looked up with a laughing expression of inquiry.
“Murphy, sorr,” responded Gladwin, through tightly compressed lips.
“Yes,” the pretender nodded quickly. “Murphy, Officer Murphy, my dear––looks after my house when I’m away. He is one of the city’s best little watchmen and he is going to see that everything is made safe and secure after we have gone.”
Helen breathed an exclamation of relief, but the fright in her eyes lingered as the unconscious feeling struck in that the attitude of the policeman seemed more than a trifle strained.
She carried a little grip in one hand, which the bogus Gladwin took from her and handed to the real Gladwin, nodding significantly for him to leave the room. Turning to Helen, he said:
“But why did you bring the bag, dear? My man told me he found your trunk at the Grand Central Station.”
“Yes,” Helen answered, “but auntie insisted that I go to the opera, so I had to pack my travelling dress. I slipped out of the opera during the entre act, and went home to change my gown. I was so frightened and in such a dreadful state of nerves that I couldn’t.”
A shudder ran through her and she seemed on 194 the point of breaking down when the man with whom she had chosen to elope drew her to him and said with what had every expression of genuine tenderness: