"No--what was there to explain?"
"Major," I said, every nerve braced for conflict, "with your permission I am going in there and have a talk with your daughter--may I?"
"Certainly, as far as I am concerned, but I don't envy you the job."
"I'll assume all risk, but I am not willing to leave her like this. Perhaps I understand the situation better than you do. You stay where I can call you if necessary, and look after the search for whoever got Le Gaire. Bell and Miles are out on the roof trying for the attic. I won't be gone long."
I have gone into battle with less trepidation than I approached that door, but never with greater determination to bear myself as became a man. Billie was going to know the truth just as clearly as I could tell it to her. I could not convince myself it was love for Le Gaire which had so affected her. I doubted if she had ever loved him. The fellow had played upon her sympathy, her pity, and circumstances had conspired to cause her to believe I was his murderer. This was amply sufficient to account for her feeling of horror, her evident desire to escape further contact with me. Hardy had been blind and blundering--had made things worse, rather than better; now I must see what I could do. I rapped at the panel, and thought I heard a faint response. A moment later I stood within, and had closed the door behind me. She was on a couch at the opposite side of the room, but arose to her feet instantly, her face white, one hand sweeping back the strands of ruffled hair.
"You!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Why have you come here? I supposed it would be my father."
"Major Hardy told me how you were feeling; that he could do nothing for you--"
"Did he understand I wished to confer with you?"
"No, but--"
"You decided to invade my room without permission. Do you not think you have persecuted me quite long enough?"