"Helena!" he said unsteadily. "Helena!"
She raised her head and looked at him; and then she rose from the bench, and, still holding to it by one hand, drew back a little. There was no outcry, no startled action. Her dark eyes played questioningly upon him—and he could
see that they were wet with tears, and that the face from out of which they looked was very white.
"Why have you come back here to-night?" she asked in a low tone; and then, suddenly, a fear, a terror in her voice, as the Flopper's warning flashed upon her: "Thornton—you have seen Thornton?"
"Yes," he said, surprised a little that she should know; "I saw Thornton a few minutes ago."
She came toward him now and clutched his arm.
"What have you done?" she cried tensely. "Answer me! You—you met him on your way here?"
It was a moment before Madison replied. He had schooled himself of course for more than this, yet the words hurt—that was why she had asked for Thornton—she was afraid that he had harmed the man.
"No," he said; "I did not meet him. I think you must have been longer here on that bench than you imagined—haven't you? He came to my room."
"Your room! What for? Tell me!"