"But to-night has brought me a great relief—though it may be but temporary," he resumed, looking up. "How thankful I felt when the police explained their errand, God alone can ever know."
"But what errand did you fear they had come upon?"
"That I cannot tell you. Not upon quite so harmless a one as it turned out to be."
"Better, perhaps, that they had come for me."
Mr. Chandos smiled—as well he might at the words; and passed to a gayer strain.
"Which of the three would you have preferred to ride before, had I given you into custody for finding that money of mine in your possession? We must have looked for a pillion!"
But I did not answer in the same jesting spirit; I could not so readily forget my alarm, or their hidden trouble. Very gravely, for it was nearly bedtime, I put my hand out to wish him good-night. He took it within both of his, and there was a pause of silence.
"Anne," he said, his low voice sounding strangely solemn in the stillness of the room, "you have been to-night forced into what may be called a species of confidence as to our unhappy secrets; at least, to have become cognizant that Chandos has things to be concealed. Will you be true to us—in so far as not to speak of this?"
"I will."
"In the house and out of it?"—and he seemed to lay emphasis on the "in."