"You would kill her," Rawlins said, a little unsteadily; "and you would kill me, I verily believe. That child is all the world to me. I committed my first theft so that she could have the change the doctors declared to be absolutely necessary. I intended to repay the money—the old, old story. And I was found out by my employers and discharged. Thank goodness, my wife was dead. Since then I have preyed on society…. But I need not go into that sordid story. You are not going to betray me?"
"I said before that I should do nothing of the kind."
"Then why do you let me know that you have discovered my identity?"
"Because I want you to help me. I fancy you respect my sex, Mr. Rawlins?"
"Call me Smith, please. I have always respected your sex. All the kindness and sympathy of my life have been for women. And I can lay my hand on my heart and declare that I never yet wronged one of them in thought or deed. The man who is cruel to women is no man."
"And yet your friend Reginald Henson is that sort."
Rawlins smiled again. He began to understand a little of what was passing in Chris's mind.
"Would you mind going a little more into details?" he suggested. "So Henson is that sort. Well, I didn't know, or he had never had my assistance in his little scheme. Oh, of course, I have known him for years as a scoundrel. So he oppresses women."
"He has done so for a long time: he is blighting my life and the life of my sister and another. And it seems to me that I have that rascal under my thumb at last. You cannot save him—you can do no more than place obstacles in my way; but even those I should overcome. And you admit that I am likely to be dangerous to you."
"You can kill my daughter. I am in your power to that extent."