“No,” Ruth answered slowly. “Somehow, I feel that you might prove a good friend.”
“Thanks. Now I want you to listen. I’m not going to defend my commercial character. I’ve taken up a good many risky deals and put them through, fighting the men who meant to down me as best I could; but all my business hasn’t been a raid on somebody else’s property. In fact, you can’t play the bold pirate too often. Very well; now and then, when I was doing an innocent trade, I wanted a respectable associate as a kind of guarantee, and asked your father to stand in. He’s known as a straight man, and my having him helped to disarm suspicion; I’ll admit that I found him useful in that respect. I hope I’ve said enough to satisfy you?”
Though his manner was humorous, Ruth felt somewhat comforted. His explanation sounded plausible, and she was glad to make the most of it; but it did not banish all her doubts.
“I don’t want him to have anything to do with your northern trip,” she persisted.
“Why?”
Ruth hesitated, and Clay felt moved to sympathy. There was distress and perplexity in her face, but what touched him most was something in her manner that suggested confidence in his ability to help her.
“I’m afraid; I feel that no good can come of it,” she said with an appealing look. “You mustn’t let him have any part in it.”
“Very well.” Clay leaned forward, speaking in an earnest tone. “Set your mind at rest. You have my word that your father shall have no share in what I hope to do at the wreck. What’s more, he doesn’t know all my plans about her. There’s nothing in them that can injure him; on the contrary, if I can carry them out, it will be to his benefit, in a way that he doesn’t expect and that you could find no fault with.”
Ruth felt that he was speaking the truth; giving her a pledge of greater importance than she could gage. His manner had impressed her, and she was conscious of keen relief.
“Thank you,” she said, getting up. “You must forgive my frankness—it seemed needful.”