If she were innocent of deliberate voluntary complicity in the machinations of Mrs. Atterbury, would not a girl in her position have welcomed the opportunity of fleeing from such a situation? She must be more than a mere tool, and yet....
It could not be true! Her little sensitive face, piquant despite its scar, rose once more before his mental vision. Her clear steady eyes seemed searching his own, proudly yet piteously imploring. He must believe in her! In spite of appearances which would have been conclusive proof to any other man, he must have faith to the end.
But why should he disdain that proof if anyone else would have accepted it? Why should he believe in her? What was she to him that he must struggle to find excuses for her in his own mind, champion her against all reason, hold desperately to a blind faith where no grounds for it existed?
Then all at once a swift self-revelation came and his heart gave a mighty leap within him as he realized at last what had been behind his vacillation and final renunciation of the scruples which had governed his career. Schemer or dupe, criminal or victim of circumstances, he loved her! Her safety meant more to him than his professional honor, and were she an adventuress of the deepest dye he still would protect her if he could against all the world!
As Ross turned, his foot encountered something soft and yielding upon the pavement and glancing downward he saw a twisted wisp of limp tan suede. For a moment he regarded it, his face a maze of conflicting emotion. Then with a gesture that was almost a caress he stooped, picked up the little glove and strode rapidly away.
Betty meanwhile had made her way to the house, with one unguarded phrase of his ringing in her ears: "What have you done that others should hunt you down?" In spite of her trepidation at the knowledge he had revealed of her employer's affairs and the part she had played in promoting them, that sentence had brought a glow of warmth, strange and inexplicable, to her heart.
Her reverie met with a rude awakening on her arrival. Mrs. Atterbury confronted her at the door and one glance at her stern, threatening face made Betty's blood turn to water in her veins as she obeyed the silent gesture and followed her employer to the library.
Mrs. Atterbury closed the door and faced her.
"Where have you been?" There was a menacing undercurrent in the level unemotional tones, but the girl chose desperately to ignore it.
"I went for a walk. You gave me permission, Mrs. Atterbury."