“He is trying now and then, but I’ll do what I can. Gladwyne, however, has more influence than I have. Did you think of asking him?”
She colored, and in her brief confusion he read his answer with strong indignation—she had pleaded with Gladwyne and he had refused to help.
“Do you know,” she said, looking up at him, “you’re the only real friend I have. There’s nobody else I can trust.”
“I think you’re wrong in that,” he declared; and acting on impulse he laid a hand protectingly on her shoulder, for she looked very dejected and forlorn. “Anyway, you mustn’t worry. I’ll do something—in fact, something will have to be done.”
“What will you do?”
He knitted his brows. There was a course, which promised to be effective, open to him, but he was most averse to adopting it. He could give Gladwyne a plain hint that he had better restrain his confederate, but he could enforce compliance only by stating what he knew about the former’s desertion of his cousin. He was not ready to do that yet; it would precipitate the climax, and once his knowledge of the matter was revealed his power to use it in case of a stronger need might be diminished. The temptation to leave Jim Crestwick to his fate was strong, but his pity for the anxious girl was stronger.
“I’ll have a talk with Gladwyne,” he promised.
“That wouldn’t be of the least use!”
“I think he’ll do what I suggest,” Lisle answered with a trace of grimness. “Make your mind easy; I’ll have Batley stopped.”
She looked at him in surprise, filled with relief and gratitude. He was one who would not promise more than he could perform; but how he could force his will on Gladwyne she did not know.