Had she pushed him into the cold waters of the harbor and left him to the colder charity of the harbor sharks, Roddy could not have been more completely surprised. He stared at the cloaked figure blankly.
“I beg your pardon!” he stammered.
“You must not expect me to meet you like this,” protested the girl; “it is impossible. You risk everything.”
Bewildered by the nature and the unexpectedness of the attack, Roddy murmured incoherently:
“I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I thought you would wish to know.”
“What else is there I could so much wish!” protested the girl with spirit. “But not in this way.”
Roddy hung his head humbly.
“I see,” he murmured. “I forgot etiquette. I should have considered you.”
“I was not thinking of myself!” exclaimed the girl. “A week ago I was frightened. Tradition, training, was strong with me, and I did think too much of how my meeting you would appear to others. But now I see it as you see it. I’ll risk their displeasure, gossip, scandal, all of that, if I can only help my father. But this will not help him. This will lead to discovery. You must not come near me, nor visit this house. My mother”—the girl hesitated—“it is hard to say,” she went on quickly, “but my mother more than dislikes you—she regards you as our evil genius. She thinks you are doing all in your power to spoil the plans of your own father and of Vega. She—we have all heard of your striking Vega in defense of Alvarez. Vega is the one man she thinks can save my father. She believes you are his enemy. Therefore, you are her enemy. And she has been told, also, of the words you used to my father when your friend was permitted to visit him.” With an effort the girl tried to eliminate from her voice the note of obvious impatience. “Of course,” she added quickly, “the story came to us distorted. I could not see your object, but I was sure you had a motive. I was sure it was well meant!”
“Well meant!” exclaimed Roddy, but interrupted himself quickly. “All right,” he said, “go on.”