She closed the door behind him and left the light burning in the hall. She did not ask him to sit down.
"You have seen the account in the Post Record?" he asked.
She nodded.
"And I suppose you are rather struck with the discrepancy between what I told you and what I told the reporters, but I feel you ought to know that I had a very special reason for protecting this man."
"Of that I have no doubt," she said coldly.
"Miss Cresswell, you must be patient and kind to me," he said earnestly. "I have devoted a great deal of time and I have run very considerable dangers in order to save you."
"To save me?" she repeated in surprise.
"Miss Cresswell," he asked, "did you ever know your father?"
She shook her head, so impressed by the gravity of his tone that she did not cut the conversation short as she had intended.
"No," she said, "I was a girl when he died. I know nothing of him. Even his own people who brought him up never spoke of him."