I said it for her. "Only, I am quartered on you, here, and you can't get rid of me. You have, in a way, a spy in camp. By an accident, I'm here, and you're at my mercy. Isn't that it? You don't, I mean, quite know what I am, and you'd like to be able to trust me, whatever happens." It was a jump in the dark for me.
I could see her fingers working; she had clasped her hands.
"Oh, I hope I haven't given you the idea that anything is likely to happen," she said anxiously. "If I have, I'm quite sorry I spoke. If you'll only take everything quite as a matter of course—that's all I mean—her moods, you know, and not think things—" She ended without attempting to be more lucid, for there was a sound of some one coming up-stairs.
Miss Fielding came into the room, and her delicate right eyebrow rose at seeing Leah sitting there, doing nothing.
"Leah, go down and tie up the dogs; they're chasing all over the place!" Her voice was crisp and peremptory.
Leah went away quietly; I got a swift glance of mute appeal at me as she left. Miss Fielding came to my side and looked down at me quizzically, her thumbs in her belt.
"Do you mind telling me your name?" she said. "It's rather awkward not to know, you know."
"Oh, Castle's my real name, right enough," I answered.
"Castle?" she repeated, and then, as if recollecting: "Of course, but I meant your first name." Her face cleared.
"Chester Castle," I enlarged. "A good name for an architect, isn't it?"