Hester's eyes filled with tears. "Then that settles me. He'll get the truth out of you; he'll twist you around his fingers. My God! They'll send me away for ten years!"
"Be quiet. Let me think."
Distressed and perplexed, Miss Thompson walked back and forth trying to decide what she should do. And Hester in wide-eyed supplication watched her, knowing well that her fate was trembling in the balance. If she could only think of something—something that would influence this fine, high-toned girl, whose soul could not be reached by any base appeal, she realized that.
At this moment there sounded beyond the conservatory the sharp call of a whistle, low and sinister.
"What's that?" started Betty.
Hester listened in tense alarm. "It's Grimes. He's got a man outside. Say," she quivered, "what are ye goin' to do with me?"
"What can I do?"
"Hide me somewhere until Grimes has gone. Will ye?" she begged.
As Miss Thompson studied the wretched girl she felt like an avenging angel who, without quite understanding how, had been changing into a benevolent fairy. Here, cowering before her, was a fugitive from justice who should, no doubt, be given up, but somehow, Betty could not do it.
"Hester," she said. "I'm doing wrong, but I can't help believing there is good in you and—I can't send you to prison. You can stay in my little room—there!" She pointed to the mezzanine door.