Miss Osborne turned her back and walked to the window. Bosworth stared a moment, then rushed angrily from the room. Griswold abandoned his study of the picture, and gravely inclined his head as Bosworth passed. Then he waited a minute. The girl still stood at the window, and there was, Griswold felt, something a little forlorn in her figure. It was quite time that he was off if he caught his train for Richmond. He crossed the room, and as he approached the window Miss Osborne turned quickly.
"It was kind of you to wait. That man is the state's attorney-general. You doubtless heard what he said to me."
"Yes, Miss Osborne, I could not help hearing. I did not leave, because I wished to say—"
The associate professor of admiralty in the department of law of the University of Virginia hesitated and was lost. Miss Osborne's eyes were brown, with that hint of bronze, in certain lights, that is the distinctive possession of the blessed. Health and spirit spoke in her bright color. She was tall and straight, and there was something militant in her figure as she faced Griswold.
"I beg to say, Miss Osborne, that if there is any way in which I can serve you, my time is wholly at your disposal."
"I thank you. I fear that you have already given yourself too much trouble in stopping here. My father will wish to thank you on his return."
Her lips trembled, and tears were bright in her eyes. Then she regained control of herself.
"Mr. Griswold, I have no claim whatever on your kindness, but I am in very great distress. I don't see just where I can turn for aid to any one I know. But you as a stranger may be able to help me—if it isn't asking too much—but then I know it is asking too much!"
"Anything, anything whatever," urged Griswold kindly.
"Mr. Bosworth, the attorney-general, warns me that if my father does not use the power of the state to capture this outlaw Appleweight, the results will be disastrous. He says my father must act immediately. He demanded his address, and, and—I gave it to him."