“I think I am going to fail, dear.”
“Oh, no!”
“Yes, honey. I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t see any way out just at present. I’ve sent for my father and my lawyer. You mustn’t stay here, sweet. Your father may come in here at any time. We must meet somewhere—to-morrow, say—to-morrow afternoon. You remember Indian Rock, out on the Wissahickon?”
“Yes.”
“Could you be there at four?”
“Yes.”
“Look out for who’s following. If I’m not there by four-thirty, don’t wait. You know why. It will be because I think some one is watching. There won’t be, though, if we work it right. And now you must run, sweet. We can’t use Nine-thirty-one any more. I’ll have to rent another place somewhere else.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Aren’t you going to be strong and brave? You see, I need you to be.”
He was almost, for the first time, a little sad in his mood.