She rose and advanced toward him.
There is no telling what might have happened. But at this moment the subject of their conversation, Newton Mills himself, opened the door and entered.
“Joyce!” he exclaimed. “You here?”
“Father!” There was an indescribable touch of something in her tone that caused the tense muscles of the man’s face to relax. “Father, I had to come.” She laid a hand on his arm. “And now you have a case, a very hard case. He has told me. I must stay and help you.”
“No! No! You must not!” The words came like a startled cry from the lips of the veteran detective.
“But, father, I used to help you.”
“Yes, yes. That is all in the past. This case is a dangerous one. It has to do with desperate characters. It may mean death. I cannot take you with me. You are too young.” He said these last words as if he were speaking of going to the grave.
Dropping into a chair and cupping his chin in his hands, he sat for some time thinking. As he thought the blood vessels swelled and throbbed on his broad temples.
“I have it!” he exclaimed at last, springing up. “Your cousin Doris Mills lives in Naperville. She is married. They are fine people. I haven’t a doubt of it, though I have never seen them. You must go there. When this affair is over, I, too, will come. We will have an enjoyable time together.”
The girl, who had measured the emotions that flowed through his being, did not say, “I will go,” nor yet, “I will not go.” She said nothing.