“We may, perhaps, be more free from observation in the Hall—at least I think so. The drawing-room is better than this. Will you allow me to do the honors of Dalton Hall?”
Dudleigh bowed, and the two walked toward the Hall, and entering, proceeded to the drawing-room.
“We are undoubtedly watched, even here,” said Edith, with a melancholy smile, “but the watcher can not observe us very well, and has to stand too far off to hear us easily, so that this room is perhaps better than out-of-doors; at any rate, it is more convenient.”
“Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh, “I am glad beyond all that words can say that I managed to get through your gates. My vague threats terrified Wiggins, though in reality I have no knowledge about him sufficiently definite to give me any actual power over him. I have only heard general scandal, in which he was mixed up. But he has given me credit for knowing something important. At any rate, now that I am here, let me do something for you at once. Command me, and I will obey.”
“I want but one thing,” said Edith, “and that is to get out.”
“Well?”
“Will you lead the way and let me follow? That is all I ask of you.”
“Certainly, and if you could only go out over my dead body, that price should be paid, and you should go.”
Dudleigh spoke quickly, but with no particular earnestness. Indeed, in all his tones there was a lack of earnestness. The words were excellent, but they lacked depth and warmth. Edith, however, was too much excited by the prospect of help to notice this.
“There is no need of that,” said she; “there is no real danger.”