“You must not compromise yourself before you know it all.”
“I have already compromised myself. I have promised to do anything within my power.”
She stirred on the couch, came ever so little nearer to him. “I have feared my request might be an impossible one.”
“An impossible one?”
“Yes—yet—I had hoped almost that you might—”
“Please,” he encouraged. “Tell me what it is.”
“I want to meet the man you call J.C.X.”
Had she plunged ice-cold water upon him the effect on Acey Smith could not have been more startling. His face went ashen at the name, his long hands gripping convulsively at the arms of the chair. He glanced apprehensively about the room, even behind him, then sprang bolt upright.
“J.C.X.” He breathed it hoarsely. “There are no others within hearing?”
“Not a soul.” It was she who was calmer now. She too had risen, was standing with a thrilling nearness to him, so close as to be within the province of his arms had he obeyed an almost irresistible impulse that was upon him to sweep her to him. She looked up at him, a steadiness in the appeal of her eyes.