“Were you followed?” von Essen shouted. “What made you come here?”
“It was safe enough. Nobody saw me.... I couldn’t go far. When I saw that thing land I threw myself flat—but it shook me up bad.... I’ll have to lay up.” He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
Hildegarde closed her eyes. “Potter’s safe!... Potter’s safe!” her heart was singing.
“We’ll get you to bed in a minute,” von Essen said, “but we’ve got to settle with this—this daughter of mine—this spy.”
Philip raised his head. “What about her?”
“She’s found out things.... We’ve got to shut her mouth.”
He caught his daughter roughly by the arm and dragged her to her feet. “You’ve meddled in something—” he began.
“Hold on,” Philip said. “You’re going at it wrong.” He turned to Hildegarde. “Miss von Essen,” he said, “you wouldn’t give your father away, would you? You wouldn’t do that?... How’d you look in court swearing away your own father’s life, eh? Think of that.... And you’ve got friends here? How’d you like to have them know? Get the idea?... We’d be tried for murder, most likely.... Want to go through life with folks pointing at you as a murderer’s daughter?”
“Traitor’s daughter!” she said, between her teeth. Then, “Are you sure Potter Waite is safe—are you sure?”
“I heard his voice shouting behind me.... Nothing touched him.” He watched her face intently, trying to read its expression, to catch some clue. “Now be reasonable.... You don’t want the world to know, eh?... Or Potter Waite to know? How’d you like for him to know your father tried to blow up his place? Wouldn’t like it, would you?” he finished, as he saw her wince.