"If you persist on going back there, I suppose I must be content with that promise," Jim replied, but with no good grace. "And now you had better be running in. If he finds that you are out, he might suppose that you are with me, and have another paroxysm of rage. In that case there is no knowing what might happen."
Helen accordingly bade him good-bye and left him, returning by the path to the Dower House. Jim watched her until she had disappeared and then turned homeward with a heavy heart. He felt that he had already enough anxiety upon his shoulders without this additional burden. He had never trusted Mr. Bursfield, but he was at a loss to understand his present malignity, unless it were to be accounted for by the fact that his brain had given way.
When he reached his home he let himself in by a side door, and made his way to the drawing-room, where he found Alice.
"How late you are," she said. "The gong sounded some time ago. You will scarcely have time to dress."
"Then dinner must wait," replied Jim. "Alice, I have bad news for you."
"Why, what is the matter now?" she asked.
Jim thereupon proceeded to furnish her with an abstract of his interview with Helen. She heard him without a word, but it was to be easily seen how distressed she was for her friend.
"My dear Jim," she remarked when he had finished, "this is indeed serious. What do you propose doing?"
"I scarcely know," Jim answered. "The case is an extremely delicate one. The old man has taken a decided dislike to me, and if I interfere between Helen and himself it will have the effect of adding to his wrath and do more harm than good. And yet I cannot allow her to remain there, and perhaps run a daily risk of her life."
"What does she think about it herself?"