"Well, if I must meet him, I suppose I must," Allen said with a shrug, sharpness cutting through his even tone. "But I warn you, Helen—I'm going to outstay him."
A moment later David entered the room. He was crossing eagerly with a hand held out to Helen, when he saw Allen beside the tea-table. He suddenly paused. Allen slowly rose, and for a space the two men stared at each other.
"So," Allen said, with slow distinctness, "You're Mr. David Aldrich?"
David went pale. He knew, from what Helen had told him of Allen, that he was in the power of a man whose ideas of justice and duty made him merciless. For a moment David had, as on the night Allen had forced him to unmask, a glimpse of the inside of a cell.
"I am," he said.
Helen had looked from one to the other in surprise. "What—you know each other?"
David turned to her. "You remember I told you that about a year ago I broke into a man's house. It was his house."
"What!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, your protégé is a thief!"
There was a vibration of triumph in Allen's voice. An old idea had flashed back upon him. He had often thought that if he could, by some striking example, show Helen the futility of her work, show her that the people whom she thought were improving were really deceiving her, then her belief in her efforts would be shattered and she would abandon them—would come nearer to him. This man Aldrich here summed up to her the success of her ideas.