“Leave us, if you please, Mrs. Malony,” he ordered. “I’ll ring when I’m ready.”
Mrs. Malony hesitated with the door-knob in her hand.
“I’m not wishing to say anything that might sound offensive,” she observed slowly, “but if it’s a case of trouble of any sort with the police, Mr. Craig—”
“That will do,” Craig interrupted. “It isn’t anything of the sort you think. You are not likely to suffer by having me here, Mrs. Malony, or by looking after my niece when I have gone.”
The landlady left the room silently. The girl came over to her uncle and threw her arm around his neck.
“Please don’t talk about going away, uncle,” she pleaded. “I have been so happy since I have been with you.”
He patted her head, felt in his pocket, and drew out a little paper bag, from which he shook a bunch of violets. The girl pinned them to her frock with a little cry of pleasure.
“How kind you are to me!” she exclaimed. “You think of everything!”
He sighed.
“If I had had you for a little longer, Mary,” he said, “perhaps I should have been a better man. Go to the window, please, and tell me if that man is still there.”