“Of course.”
“I can get a housekeeper.”
“That only makes it look worse.”
Cleves reddened. “Well, do you want to find her in some hotel or apartment with her throat cut?”
“No,” replied Recklow, gently, “I do not.”
“Then what else is there to do but keep her here in my own apartment and never let her out of my sight until we can find and lock up the eight gentlemen who are undoubtedly bent on murdering her?”
“Isn’t there some woman in the Service who could help out? I could mention several.”
“I tell you I can’t trust Tressa Norne to anybody except myself,” insisted Cleves. “I got her into this; I am responsible if she is murdered; I dare not entrust her safety to anybody else. And, Recklow, it’s a ghastly responsibility for a man to induce a young girl to face death, even in the service of her country.”
“If she remains here alone with you she’ll face social destruction,” remarked Recklow.
Cleves was silent for a moment, then he burst out: “Well, what am I to do? What is there left for me to do except to watch over her and see her through this devilish business? What other way have I to protect her, Recklow?”