"Yes, yes, I know—but good heavens, Dot! I have to catch an afternoon train for Indianapolis, sure!"
Slosson stared at her, anxiety and dismayed hesitation evident in his features. He was better looking than of old; cleaner about the eyes, firmer of mouth. Dorothy thought that he must have been not only prospering, but behaving himself.
He refused to sit down, but resumed his nervous pacing back and forth.
"This is terrible, Dot!" he burst out. "I've risked everything to come here—and now Reese is gone! If I could only get ten minutes with him—"
"Tell me, instead." Dorothy realized that something of serious import must be in the air; his agitated manner conveyed the fact. "Is it business? Reese and I have no secrets, Pete. If you like, why not telephone? I think we can reach him."
"No, no, it's impossible! I daren't telephone—or tell you either—"
He stopped short and stared at her, biting his lip. In his air was an alarmed hesitation, as though her suggestion had startled and frightened him.
"I'll say frankly, Dot, that it's for your sake I've come here to warn Reese. I'm risking everything in doing it—"
"For my sake?"
"Yes." He faced her squarely, on his lips a slight smile tinged with bitterness. "Your happiness has always meant a good deal to me, Dot. It's for your sake that I came here—I'm not ashamed to admit it. But I can't deliver this warning to you. There are things—oh, well, it's out of the question."