“Where did you come from this morning?” asked the other, still incredulous.
“From the hospital.”
Wilson hesitated just a second; he knew that in asking anything further he ran the risk of being mistaken for a charlatan, but this seemed now his only chance of getting back to her. They were speeding out through the Fenway, but the driver had now slowed down to await further orders. The man would drop him anywhere he said, but even supposing he brought him back to the vicinity of the house, he could not possibly escape observation long enough to locate that little door in the rear––the only clue he had to identification of the house. If ever a man’s exterior gave promise of generous help, the features of this fellow by his side did. He was of about his own age, smooth shaven, with a frank, open face that gave him a clean and wholesome appearance. He had the lithe frame and red cheeks of an athlete in training––his eyes clear as night air, his teeth white as a hound’s. But it was a trick of the eyes which decided Wilson––a bright eagerness tinged with humor and something of dreams, which suggested that he himself was alert for just such adventures as this in which Wilson found himself. He glanced up and found the other studying him curiously as though trying 68 to decide for himself just what sort of a fellow he had rescued.
“I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” began Wilson, “but I’ve told you only the truth. Furthermore, I’ve done nothing any decent fellow wouldn’t do. The police have no right to me, although they might make a lot of trouble.”
“That’s all right, old man. You needn’t feel obliged to ’fess up to me.”
“I wanted to tell you that much,” answered Wilson, “because I want to ask something of you; I want you to give me a suit of clothes and enough money to keep me alive for a week.”
Wilson saw the other’s brows contract for a second as though in keen annoyance or disappointment at this mediocre turn in a promising situation. He added quickly:
“I’m not asking this altogether for myself; there’s a girl involved––a girl in great danger. If I get back to her soon, there is still hope that I can be of some use.”
The other’s face brightened instantly.
“What’s that you say? A girl in danger?”