"Supposing he were to be arrested?" I asked.
"The police would never get him out of town," Rastall replied. "There are a million of his followers within a radius of twenty miles from here. I think we should see a riot that would approach almost to a revolution. The man is as cunning as a fox. He will preach his idealistic sociology first. The rest will creep in by degrees."
Meanwhile, Creslin spent the greater part of his spare time in our sitting room. He scarcely now made a pretence of taking any particular interest in either Leonard or myself. His whole attention was directed towards Rose. To do him justice, he was a man of considerable culture and fine perceptions on many subjects. There were times when Rose's face seemed to light up, when she seemed to find a genuine pleasure in his conversation. There were others when I saw her cold and wooden, parrying the unspoken pleadings of his meretricious philosophy with a skill for which I should never have given her credit. It was evident that Creslin was very much in earnest indeed. He was continually inviting her to lunch, to motor, to leave the hotel alone with him, all of which invitations she contrived to evade. In the end, he even had the effrontery to appeal to me.
"I gather," he said, one morning, "that Miss Rose Mindel is nothing to either of you who are her companions."
"She is nothing to us," I replied, "except a very dear sister who has a claim upon our joint protection."
"I will not conceal from you," he continued, "that I have the greatest admiration for Miss Mindel—I might even venture to say affection."
I received the confession in silence. He seemed much less at his ease than usual.
"I have met with no woman," he went on, "in whose companionship I could find more joy."
"Then why don't you ask her to marry you?" I demanded.
He looked at me with his narrow eyes almost wide open.