"Oh, yes; they care very much," smiled the doctor wearily; "but not in the way that is going to help any. I couldn't get anything out of Burke, and I didn't get much more out of his father. But I did a little."
"They don't know, of course, that she's here?"
"Heavens, I hope not!—under the circumstances. But I felt all kinds of a knave and a fool and a traitor. I got away as soon as possible. I couldn't stay. I hoped to get something—anything—that I could use for a cudgel over Helen, to get her to go back, you know. But I couldn't get a thing. However, I shall keep on urging, of course."
"But what did they say?"
"Burke said nothing, practically. Nor would he let me say anything. He is very angry (his father told me that), and very bitter."
"But isn't he frightened, or worried?"
"Not according to his father. It seems they have had a detective on the case, and have traced her to Boston. There the trail ends. But they have found out enough to feel satisfied that no evil has befallen her. Burke argues that Helen is staying somewhere (with friends, he believes) because she wants to. Such being the case he doesn't want her back until she gets good and ready to come. He does want the baby. John Denby told me, in fact, that he believed if Burke found them now, as he's feeling, he'd insist on a separation; and that the baby should be given to him."
"Given to him, indeed!" flashed Mrs. Thayer angrily. "And yet, in the face of that, you sit there and say you shall urge her to go back, of course."
Frank Gleason stirred uneasily.
"I know, Edith, but—"