“Yes, Mr. Maitland.”
“Is he up?” he asked in an awe-stricken whisper.
“You mean my father? Yes, he’s awake.”
“I’ve got to see you,” the old man almost wailed. “They’ve took him.”
“Taken whom?” she asked with a catch in her voice.
“That fellow Balder. I knew they would.”
She remembered having heard Elk mention Balder.
“The policeman?” she asked. “Mr. Elk’s man?”
But he was off on another tack.
“It’s you he’s after.” He came nearer to her and clutched her arm. “I warned you—don’t forget I warned you. Tell him that I warned you. He’ll make it good for me, won’t he?” he almost pleaded, and she began to understand dimly that the “he” to whom the old man was referring was Dick Gordon. “He’s been with me most of the night, prying and asking questions. I’ve had a terrible night, miss, terrible,” he almost sobbed. “First Balder and then him. He’ll get you—not that police gentleman I don’t mean, but Frog. That’s why I wrote you the letter, telling you to come up. You didn’t get no letter, did you, miss?”