"I couldn't go," she said. "I tried not to give up and be so ill, but perhaps the effects of the drug that the Robinsons employed caused the trouble. At last I thought you might have written to the Eighteenth Street address, so I sent around and got your letters, before I could even send a wire."
"You wired because Fairfax had appeared?"
"Yes, I thought you ought to know."
"How did you know he was here in New York? Did he call at the house where you were staying?"
"No. He sent a note declaring he would call. That was this morning. Miss Ellis's friend, of the Star, had an intuition as to who we were, that evening when he called. When I finally requested Miss Ellis to ask him not to print more stories about us, he had already spoken to the editor, and more of the matter had appeared. Since you left, however, I haven't seen a single reporter."
"Fairfax got his clew to your whereabouts from the press, of course. The question now is, where do you wish to go? And what do you wish me to do—concerning the rôle I have filled?"
Dorothy was thoroughly disturbed by the topic.
"Oh, I don't know what to do," she confessed. "I wish I could never see that man again! What do you advise?"
"We hardly know what the situation may require, till we discover more about this latest will," said Garrison. "Things may be altered materially. If you wish it, you can doubtless manage to secure a separation from Fairfax. In the meantime I would strongly advise that you rent an apartment without delay, where no one can find you again."
She looked at him wistfully. "Not even you?"