“Who was it, if you please?”
“A gentleman with a brown beard, a red necktie, and a bad disposition.”
“I thought as much,” she said, half to herself, and her eyes were bent again upon the point of her parasol, with which she was tracing a design in the rug. She lifted her head with the abruptness of quick decision, and looked straight at Griswold. The negress had withdrawn to the outer door, by which she sat with sphinx-like immovability.
“I am Miss Osborne. Governor Osborne is my father. Would you mind telling me whether your business with my father is——”
She hesitated, and her eyes met Griswold’s.
“Miss Osborne, as I have no acquaintances here, let me introduce myself. My name is Griswold. My home is Charlottesville. Pardon me, but you and I were fellow-passengers from Atlanta yesterday evening. I am unacquainted with your father, and I have no business with him except——”
He was not yet clear in his mind whether to tell her that her father’s life was threatened; it did not seem fair to alarm her when he was powerless to help; but as he weighed the question the girl came out into the reception-room and sat down near the window.
“Won’t you have a seat, Mr. Griswold? May I ask you again whether you know the gentleman who came in here and beat the door a while ago?”
“I never saw him before in my life.”
“That is very well. And now, Mr. Griswold, I am going to ask you to tell me, if you will, just what it is you wish to say to my father.”