“A menace, how?” he asked, softly.
“In different ways,” Mrs. Wheeler returned, in so low a voice that the listener outside could scarcely hear. “Through me, because of something he knew; through Maida—because of—of something he wanted; and, of course, through Dan himself, because of that old conditional pardon.”
“What do you mean about Maida?” Allen caught at the thing that most impressed him. “Did old Appleby want to marry Maida?”
“Yes, he did. Of course, neither her father nor I would hear of such a thing, but Mr. Appleby was an insistent man—insistent and inexorable—and he wanted Maida——”
“Mother dear, I want you to come away now,” and Maida came into the room. “Come, you have talked too long. It does no good, to you or to any one else. Did you call her down, Jeffrey?”
“Yes,” and Allen deeply regretted his act. “But I want to talk to somebody, Maida. Will you take your mother away—and return?”
“Yes, I will,” and the girl left the room, guiding the slow footsteps of her mother.
When she came back, Allen took her out under the old sycamore.
“Now, Maida,” he said, gently, “the truth. No matter what it is, you must tell me. We are here alone, that eavesdropping detective can’t overhear us, and you must tell me whom you are shielding and the full details for the crime.”
“I can’t tell you all the details, Jeff,” the girl returned, “they include a secret that is not mine to divulge.”