“It is that I wish your opinion. When Mr. Blake finished that absurd door last evening, he would not tell me why he had built it–only a vague statement about my safety.”
“Ah! He did not go into particulars?” drawled Winthrope.
“No, not even a hint; and he looked so–odd.”
Winthrope slowly rubbed his soft palms on upon the other.
“Do you–er–really desire to know his–the motive which actuated him?” he murmured.
“I should not have mentioned it to you, if I did not,” she answered.
“Well–er–” He hesitated and paused for a full minute. “You see, it is a rather difficult undertaking to intimate such a matter to a lady–just the right touch of delicacy, you know. But I will begin by explaining that I have known it since the first–”
“Known what?”
“Of that bound–of–er–Blake’s trouble.”
“Trouble?”