“Did he give you any idea of what he wanted to say?”
“No, but it was something which was vitally important to him, I think. I couldn’t understand half that he said. He spoke in loud whispers, and I’ve told you how harsh his voice is.”
Bennett relit his pipe, and sat for a while with downcast eyes, revolving the matter in his mind.
“The next time he comes you’d better let me see him,” he said.
“I don’t think so, daddy,” she answered quietly. “If he has anything very important to say, I think I ought to know what it is. I have a feeling that he is asking for help.”
John Bennett looked up.
“A millionaire asking for help? Ella, that sounds queer to me.”
“And it is queer,” she insisted. “He didn’t seem half so terrible as he appeared when I first saw him. There was something tragic about him, something very sad. He will come to-night, and I’ve promised to see him. May I?”
Her father considered.
“Yes, you may see him, provided you do not go outside this garden. I promise that I will not appear, but I shall be on hand. Do you think it is about Ray—that Ray has committed some act of folly that he wants to tell you about?” he asked with a note of anxiety.