He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and knocked out some ash against the fireplace.
Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. There was something in the man's serenity of mien that puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, possessive eyes.
He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely.
"We must somehow get away from 'The Anchor' to-day," she said. "I have a little money. Perhaps if you would help me to move Bunny, we could go into lodgings again until----"
"I have a little money too," said Jake. "And I will certainly help you. But first,--do you object to telling me what has been happening at 'The Anchor'?"
She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her embarrassment.
"To begin with," she said with difficulty, "he--Mr. Sheppard--has turned us out of the room downstairs. He carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time." She broke off, shuddering at the remembrance.
Jake frowned. "Go on!" he said briefly.
She went on with increasing difficulty. "That happened yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon or evening, but you didn't."
"I couldn't get away," he interpolated. "Yes? And then?"