His action surprised her, but yet that instinctive trust with which he had inspired her long ago remained, refusing to be shaken.
"Put me right down!" she said again. "And tell me why you did it!"
He set her on her feet, but he still held her. "Can't you guess?" he said.
"No!" she said. "No!"
She spoke a little wildly. Was it the first doubt that ran shadow—like across her brain, leaving her so strangely cold? She wished it had not been so dark, that she might see his face. "Tell me!" she said again.
But he did not tell her. "Don't be afraid!" was all he said in answer. "You are—safe enough."
"But—but—Fletcher?" she questioned, desperately. "What of him?"
"He's safe too—for the present." There was something of grimness in his reply. "He doesn't matter so much. He's been asking for trouble all along—but he had no right—no right whatever—to bring you into it. It's you that matters."
A curious, vibrant quality had crept into his voice, and an answering tremor went through her; but she controlled it swiftly.
"And Adela," she said. "She was with Mr. Harley. What has become of her?"