Her loud and hurried knocking at the door of Bancroft’s private office sent to his heart the quick apprehension to which he had become an easy prey. He sprang to his feet with his hand upon the revolver that of late lay always ready upon his desk. Not only was it a relief to find that it was nobody but Louise, but the very sight of her was so welcome and so easeful to his overwrought and desperate mind that unconsciously he addressed her by her Christian name. Her wild eyes and distraught face alarmed him.
“Louise! What is the matter? You have come in all this rain? How wet you are! Has anything happened?”
“No; not now; not yet! Wait, let me get my breath—I will tell you. Aleck, how pale you are! Has anything happened to you?” In their excitement neither of them noticed that she also used his Christian name.
“No; nothing has happened to me—no more than usual. I am in deep trouble, Louise.”
“I know, I know,” she cried, coming close to him. “I know what it is—I have come to warn you. Curtis Conrad—”
“What about him?” Bancroft exclaimed, starting back. “What do you know about him?”
“What you know, Aleck—that he means to kill you. He is coming here this very afternoon—he will be here soon—he will kill you. You must hide from him!”
He drew back as she spoke, and then turned sharply upon her. “Do you know why? Are you another who knows?”
She moved a step aside and dropped her gaze, but her voice was tender and compassionate as she replied, “Yes, Aleck; I know.”
He looked at her with astonished eyes. “How did you find it out? How long have you known?”