Bill was astounded. Still limp and sick from his exertions in the water, this declaration—half truth that it was—literally took his breath away. Of course she was mistaken in the name, but Stamford is only five or six miles from New Canaan. Did she take him for someone else, or had she only got the name wrong? In either case, would it be wise to reveal his real identity? What if she were one of those working against Mr. Evans?
Yet she was but a young girl and these enemies of Charlie’s father had already proven themselves to be villains of the first water. Weak as he was, Bill’s brain was unable to cope with the problem. His bewilderment was evidently clearly written on his face, for he could see a slow smile appearing in the girl’s eyes as she stood in the doorway and looked down on him.
“I notice you don’t deny it, Mr. Johnson,” she remarked abruptly.
Bill shook his head. “I don’t see the good of denying it,” he replied quietly. “You appear to know all about me. But as a point of interest, I’d be glad to know how you got your information.”
“No doubt it’s a point of great interest to you,” she said with deliberation. “But you really can’t expect me to answer that question. To tell the truth, I was a little doubtful about you at first—I only mentioned your name to make quite certain who you were. But now we know what to do.”
“And that is?”
“Ah! but you go too fast!” She took a step nearer and her voice softened. “Mr. Johnson, why did you decide to come to Maine? Do you really think it is going to bring you luck?”
Bill looked at her closely, unable to decide what was in her mind. Perhaps her object was to sound him delicately on how much he really knew. He did not reply.
“Well,” she went on, and her tone was low and serious, “if I were you, I wouldn’t be too sure about that luck. Some things, you know, are better left alone.”
“Frankly, I don’t get you,” said Bill.