"Will you give us your word?" she said, with an encouraging smile.
The young man looked at her reproachfully as he shook his head:
"No," he said, "that means you have some doubt. No, Miss Marsh, I won't give my word. It shouldn't be necessary. I guess I'll go. You're all right, Mr. Ricaby, you're doing your best, but you get rattled. You lose your head and you bark up the wrong tree. I guess that's where Cooley doubled up on you." Reaching the door, he turned round: "I'm sorry you don't believe me, Miss Marsh. I'll do all I can for you, but you're kinder tying my hands. Good day, Mr. Ricaby—good-bye, Miss Marsh, and good luck to you."
"Oh, don't go, Mr. Chase," exclaimed Paula, going towards him. "I don't believe——"
"Yes, I guess I'd better go," he replied doggedly, "he's your counsel. Good-bye!"
The door closed behind him. He was gone. Mr. Ricaby turned to the girl:
"Paula," he said earnestly, "we must trust no one. They won't stop at anything, as you see. They even had me arrested on a ridiculous charge. I was trying to borrow money—to carry on this case—to engage ex-Senator Wratchett. Mr. Chase knew this, didn't he?"
"You see, he knows everything. I'm afraid he's a spy."
The girl shook her head. She was too good a judge of human nature to be so easily deceived.