“Yes, father,” she said, kissing his pallid face. “I will save you. But how?” she asked herself, while a thought of Herbert crossed her mind.
He had been there every day, or, rather, evening—for, like Nicodemus, he chose the night for his visits, and it seemed to her that every time he came he appeared more and more under constraint. Still, he was very kind, and had said to her more than once:
“I am so sorry; and I wish I could help you. Command me if I can.”
Remembering this, there came into Louie’s mind the thought: “He can help me. They will listen to him.”
She did not expect him till evening, and then it might be too late. She could not go for him, but she could telephone, and she did, first to the house, and then to the bank, from which the judge’s voice, asking, “Who are you?” came back so loud that it made her start.
“Louie Grey,” was the response.
“What do you want?”
“I want Herbert.”
“The devil you do!” the judge said, in an aside; then, through the ‘phone, “He is in the street. What shall I tell him?”
“Please say that I want to see him at once. I am in great trouble,” Louie answered, frankly and fearlessly, with no thought of the storm she was provoking.