“Keeban?”
“He goes by the name of Vine just now; Harry Vine. There was somebody with him?”
“A girl,” I admitted.
“Light haired?”
“As light,” I said slowly and deliberately, “as Dorothy Crewe’s.”
He had to draw breath deep after that. “Steve, how is Dot?”
“Don’t you see the papers?”
“Of course.”
“Well, they’ve told the truth about her condition.”
Again he drew deep breath; then he struck his hands together. “I’ll cure her, Steve, by the only way. I’ll show her Keeban! But we’ve got to be careful—awfully, awfully careful, don’t you see? I’ve got to catch him, not scare him away. Suppose he goes off forever; suppose he’s drowned, body lost; suppose he’s burnt; suppose a dozen wrong things, Steve, and I can never show him. Then I’ve got to be Keeban forever; nobody but you will ever believe! Will they?”