"Friends—yes!" exclaimed Rosalind. "But how about the excitement? Think of what's been going on here—of what may happen at any time. Why, it might kill him!"
Mrs. Witherbee sat down suddenly and limply.
"What shall we do?" she moaned.
"There is only one thing to do, of course; that is to make the best of it. He must be kept absolutely quiet, but he must not know that he is being kept quiet.
"Under no circumstances must he be told anything about burglars or smugglers or spies or anything of that sort. He must not know about the burglar-alarm, or the raids at this place and Mr. Davidson's—or anything! It may be a matter of life or death with him. Nobody must even suggest such a thing!
"Why, Gertrude mustn't even wear that bracelet, because it's so odd it will start him asking questions, and then the whole thing is likely to come out!
"Everybody must be told to say nothing whatever about anything that might give him a shock. Not only that; they mustn't even do anything exciting.
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" faltered Mrs. Witherbee as she rocked in her chair.
"It's too late to stop him, of course," continued Rosalind. "I suppose he's at Clayton by this time. So the only thing we can do is to take the utmost precautions. And we must be particularly careful that he does not even suspect!"
"Oh, we will; we will, my dear."