“Oh!” exclaimed Baron. “And you knew, then——”
“Yes, I knew then.”
“But you haven’t.... Mr. Thornburg....”
“I didn’t show him this. He doesn’t know. Surely you can understand. He has acted a lie, in trying to get the little girl into the house without telling me about her. And I can’t blame him for that, after what happened that other time. But I can’t bear to let him know that—that I know.”
“But don’t you see, if Bonnie May is really his daughter, and if he weren’t afraid to tell you so, he could bring her here without any further hinderance!”
“No, he couldn’t. Not if the mother wants her.”
Baron arose. “After all, it’s largely guesswork—conclusions reached in the dark,” he said. “You’ve received an anonymous note. That’s all the foundation you have for what you’ve told me. And people who write anonymous letters....”
He reflected dubiously, and then he came to a decision.
“I’ve reason to believe,” he said, “that there is good ground for you to reject what’s in that note.”
She leaned forward, observing him intently.