"Quite certain. Since you and I met—a fortnight ago isn't it?—I have seen her several times, in the neighbourhood of the house—after dark. She has no idea, of course, that I have been prowling round."
"What have you seen?—what can she be doing?" asked Delia. "Of course I remember what you told me—the other day."
Lathrop's belief was that a close watch was now being kept on Daunt—on his goings and comings—with a view perhaps to beguiling him away, and then getting into the house.
"But he has lately got a niece to stay with him, and help look after the children, and the house. His sister who is married in London, offered to send her down for six months. He was rather surprised, for he had quite lost sight of his sister; but he tells me it's a great relief to his mind.
"So you talk to him?"
"Certainly. Oh, he knows all about me—but he knows too that I'm on the side of the house! He thinks I'm a queer chap—but he can trust me—in that business. And by the way, Miss Blanchflower, perhaps I ought to let you understand that I'm an artist and a writer, before I'm a Suffragist, and if I come across Miss Marvell—engaged in what you and I have been talking of—I shall behave just like any other member of the public, and act for the police. I don't want to sail—with you—under any false pretences!"
"I know," said Delia, quietly. "You came to warn me—and we are acting together. I understand perfectly. You—you've promised however"—she could not keep her voice quite normal—"that you'd let me know—that you'd give me notice before you took any step."
Lathrop nodded. "If there's time—I promise. But if Daunt or I come upon Miss Marvell—or any of her minions—torch in hand—there would not be time. Though, of course, if I could help her escape, consistently with saving the house—for your sake—I should do so. I am sure you believe that?"
Delia made no audible reply, but he took her silence for consent.
"And now"—he resumed—"I ought to be informed without delay, whether your messenger finds Miss Marvell and how she receives your letter."