CHAPTER VIII.
A FIENDISH PROPOSITION.
When Faith left the car Bob Hardy followed her. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was watching her, and when Faith had reached the middle of a block of vacant lots he quickened his steps and was soon beside her.
"Just a minute, miss," he said, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
Faith wheeled around and confronted him with cold dignity.
"Well, what do you wish with me, sir?" she asked quietly. "I noticed that you were following me. Have you had orders to do so?"
"Not exactly, miss," said the detective, a little disconcertedly, "but you are in a pretty bad fix over that money affair, and I just thought I'd put you on your guard as a sort of favor."
"What?"
Faith's voice fairly vibrated with indignation. "Explain yourself, sir. I do not understand you?"
"Oh, if you insist," said the detective with a disagreeable leer, "I won't be so unkind as to disappoint a lady."