“It might become one,” he answered. “The man is dangerous.”
She looked thoughtfully into the fire.
“I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. If so I shall have to leave.”
“You cannot play at hide-and-seek with this creature all your life,” he answered. “Let your friends act for you. There must be ways of getting rid of him.”
“I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult. He really deserves a better fate, does he not? He is so beautifully persistent.”
He drew a little nearer to her. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. Nevertheless she withdrew her hand.
“Let me help you,” he begged. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you.”
Her hand fell back into her lap. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn.
“That is very nice of you,” she said. “But it is so difficult——”
“Not at all,” he answered eagerly. “I wish you would come and see my lawyers. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. You need not tell me, but a lawyer is different. His client’s story is safe with him. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow.”