“You can’t do anything now, Hal,” Dorothea interrupted, seeing the certain drift of his talk. “You haven’t the strength.”
“But something must be done for him,” Hal insisted.
“Very well, I’ll help him,” Dorothea answered.
He looked up at her a moment, his eyes growing moist.
“I think you’re the only one who would, Dee,” he replied, lapsing into weakness again when he felt the responsibility lifted from his shoulders. “If you will pay my debt to him, I shall be easier in my mind.”
“Of course, Hal,” she assured him. “You can count on me.”
He nodded his head slightly and then with a sigh dropped off to sleep, utterly exhausted.
It was easy enough for Hal to say, “Pay my debt,” but Dorothea had no idea how that was to be accomplished. All she knew was that Lee Hendon was in Coulter Woods or at least that Hal thought so. As she speculated upon the matter she concluded that Lee and Hal had parted on the understanding that the former would remain there to receive the help he was in need of. But it was in no wise clear to Dorothea. Why should Hendon need help? In what danger did he stand? Washington was his home, and although he was not particularly popular with the more fanatical people of the town, there were many who understood something of his position and were entirely sympathetic with him. The more she pondered the matter the more she began again to believe that Hal was not quite himself, and that his illness and fever had been the cause of his curious state of mind in regard to Lee Hendon.
She sat beside the bed, gently fanning the tranquil patient when Harriot came in on tiptoe.
“How is he?” she asked in a whisper, settling herself on the floor beside Dorothea.