“I do not know what to think,” she replied, slowly; and though he could not see, because her head was turned from him, he felt sure that there were tears in her eyes. “I have seen so much treachery of late that my reason refuses to accept appearances. I have cause to thank Griscom Forrester, as you know; but I also have cause to fear him. He may be my friend, he may be a friend to Hong Yo, or he may be seeking to further his own personal ends. I cannot tell.”
Shortly after this she went down into the cabin once more; and Kenyon and Webster talked in low tones.
“It would seem,” remarked the young man from Chicago, “that she is not any more sure about Forrester than you were some days, or nights, ago. The fellow seems to be a puzzle.”
“It will not take a great while now to solve him,” answered Kenyon, grimly. “We are coming into the East River, and once on the Wizard’s deck, I’ll not waste words.”
“Yes; I don’t think a little straight talk will do any harm; the time seems about ripe for it. But, I say, Ken, doesn’t she,” with a nod toward the cabin, “do any talking of an enlightening nature?”
Kenyon frowned and looked down into the ghost-like billows which the craft was throwing up upon either side. They frothed for a moment in the lantern light and then disappeared in the darkness.
“To speak the plain truth,” said he slowly, “I doubt if she knows a great deal more than I can guess.”
“But what little she might know,” persisted Webster, “she keeps pretty closely to herself.”
“Yes,” reluctantly.
“I wonder why. You are upon her side; you are helping her to win out.”