“I’m up, if you want me, Ella.”
“Thank you, daddy,” she said gratefully. She was glad to know that he was around. It gave her a feeling of confidence which she had never before possessed in the presence of this old man.
The first light was showing in the sky when she saw the silhouette of Mr. Maitland against the dawn, and heard the soft click of the latch as he opened the garden gate. She had not heard the car nor seen it. This time Maitland had alighted some distance short of the house.
He was, as usual, nervous and for the time being speechless. A heavy overcoat, which had seen its best days, was buttoned up to his neck, and a big cap covered his hairless head.
“That you, miss?” he asked in a husky whisper.
“Yes, Mr. Maitland.”
“You coming along for a little walk? . . . Got something to tell you. . . . Very important, miss.”
“We will walk in the garden,” she said, lowering her voice.
He demurred.
“Suppose anybody sees us, eh? That’d be a fine lookout for me! Just a little way up the road, miss,” he pleaded. “Nobody will hear us.”