Then the dignity came back, and, resuming her seat, she said:—
“You were going to offer a suggestion. I should like to hear it. I am sure it is meant for my advantage.”
“It is only this: I have a haunting fear that your father—”
“He was not my father,” the young woman broke in, speaking the words quite as if they had borne no special significance. “But go on, please.”
Kilgariff almost lost the thread of his thought in his astonishment at this sudden statement. He went on:—
“Well, then, the man Campbell, or whatever his real name was. I have a haunting fear that he has prepared those papers for the purpose of wounding and insulting you. He was capable of any malice, any malignity, any atrocity. He may have put into these papers falsehoods that you will be the better for not reading. On the other hand, the papers may be innocent of any such purpose, and it may even be of the utmost importance that you should know their contents. I venture to suggest that you yourself do what I had no right to do; namely, ask Dorothy to examine the packet and tell you whether or not it is well for you to read the papers. You love her and trust her, and her judgment is unfailing, I might almost say infallible. This is only a suggestion, of course. I have no right to press it.”
Evelyn sat silent, holding the packet in her hands and nervously turning it over. At last she arose and took a few steps toward the doorway. Then, turning about, she said:—
“If it were necessary for any one to read the papers and advise me concerning them, I should ask you, Colonel Kilgariff, to stand as my friend and counsellor in the matter. But it is not necessary. I already know what is in the papers.”
She turned instantly and entered the house, leaving Kilgariff alone in the porch.