“No, my dear sister, because I did not know of it myself. But calm yourself now. You look so very ill, I am afraid the excitement has been too much for you.”
“No, no!” she cried, with a look of terror in her eyes, “it is not that,—seeing you both is nothing but joy; it would make me well and ready for anything. But—but he has been here since I saw you yesterday, Amos. He found out from my manner that something had happened, and he made me tell that you had been here. And then he asked if you had said anything about money; and, when I hesitated, he threatened and threatened till he forced it out of me that my dear father had sent me those notes. He went off again last night, and said that he should like to meet you this morning, and that perhaps something might be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.”
“Then you told him that I was coming again this morning?”
“Yes; he dragged it from me by his sharp and cruel questioning. But he is not coming till twelve o’clock.”
“And where is he now?”
“I cannot tell. He never lets me know where he is going to, or how long he means to stay away.”
“I will meet him here, then,” said Amos; “perhaps we may now really come to some understanding which will get us out of our difficulties.”
“And what about me?” asked Walter. “I have come over here in the character of a policeman in plain clothes to watch over my brother Amos, and I don’t want that precious blackguard—I beg your pardon, Julia, I mean your husband—to have any more tête-à-têtes with my charge unless I am by. Can you hide me away in some corner where I can hear and see all that is going on without being seen myself?”
“Would that be right?” asked his brother hesitatingly.
“Perfectly right,” said Walter, “so long as you are willing that I should hear what passes between you. I’m not fond of acting the spy, but this is simply taking reasonable precautions to prevent an honest man being entrapped or injured by a rogue.”