The girl rose, and stood, waiting.
“Go,” she said, without glance or gesture.
And in a white heat of anger, Trask went.
“Now, dearie,” Mrs. Adams said, coming in, “I don’t want you to tell me anything. My husband bids me befriend you—and I will, so long as your case is uncertain. But if you’re proved to be guilty, I—”
“Oh, don’t fail me,” and Miss Mystery threw herself into the other’s arms. “I am so lonely and so friendless—”
“Why are you? Where’s your folks?”
Then Miss Mystery drew herself up, with a forlorn little attempt at dignity, and said, “I’d like to go to my room now, please.”
Upstairs she went, slowly, and as she neared her own room Lockwood met her in the hall.
“Count me your friend,” he said, simply, and held out his hand.
“I will,” she replied, putting her little hand in his, and then, with one deep glance, each knew of the other’s love.