"I've told you that she's absolutely alone in the world," I replied to that.
"And what's her danger?" he asked. "We live in the twentieth century, and there are the police——"
"Can I apply to the police?" I asked him.
"No, I suppose you can't," he acknowledged. "Well, at any rate, let me know what you want me to do, and how long the girl will stop—and I'll do the best I can. After all, perhaps what you said about me being an old man, and being found dead, and all that sort of thing—perhaps it may have some truth in it. And I've not been so very hard on people, and even if I have, you seem to think that this kindness to the young lady will make it all right for me. Because, you know," he added, with a shake of the head, "it's a great deal to ask anyone to do. Girls are more nuisance than they're worth. Boys are bad enough—but girls!" He held up his hands in horror at the mere thought of them.
I felt very grateful to him, and quite elated at my success. I took one of his feeble old hands, which he yielded with reluctance, and shook it warmly. "You're doing a greater kindness than you can imagine," I said. "I'll let you know if I can persuade the girl to come here; I won't take you by surprise again."
"I'm glad to know that, at least," he said. "You've given me an awful shock as it is. Now I suppose you'll go away again quietly?"
"Yes," I said, getting down from the table, "I'll go away again. But let me give you a word of warning, Uncle Zabdiel: even the best of us are inclined to forget promises in this world. You have sworn that you will not tell any one my secret."
"My dear boy," he whined, "do you seriously think that I should betray you?"
"No," I answered, "I don't think you would. It would be bad for you if you did; my vengeance would reach quite a long way."
"All right, my boy," he replied hastily, as he got to his feet and moved away from me. "No threats; no threats; they are quite unnecessary."