"Have you seen him?" I demanded.
She nodded quickly. "I was walking in the grounds a little while ago, and I saw him. He came up to me, and said how glad he was to see me, and asked about the doctor—all quite innocently and simply, I thought."
"There is no innocence and no simplicity about him," I said. "He means murder. I don't think anything will turn him from it. That's why I want you to leave all this behind and to go away."
"With you?" she asked.
"No, not with me," I said, reluctantly enough. I could not tell her then all that was in my mind; I might have broken down in the telling. "I must remain here until I know what Capper means to do. I must, if possible, dissuade him from that, if only for his own sake. Tell me, my dear girl," I went on earnestly, "is there no one to whom you could go, and who would befriend you? Set the doctor out of your mind altogether; I have a presentiment that, whatever happens, he will not trouble you again. Is there no one to whom you could turn?"
"No one but you in all the world," she said, looking at me curiously.
"Your father must have had some lawyer—some friend," I suggested.
"The same lawyer that Dr. Just employs," she said. "He looks after my money, as well as that of the doctor."
"I want you to promise, Debora, that if anything happens to me you will go to that man, and will see to it that he makes proper provision for you out of your money, and provides you with a settled home. He will do that for his own sake."
"But what should happen to you?" she whispered, clinging to me. "And in any case how will anyone help me if the doctor is here to interfere?"