“I’m a thief,” he said bluntly, and gulped on the word. “I stole a few dollars and the police are after me.”
“A thief!” she cried, staring at him. “I have no money.”
“I know, I know,” he mumbled in desperate hurry. “I don’t want to rob you. I want to get away. I was forced to do it.”
“Forced!”
“We were starving. I’m married, the same as you are. Wouldn’t your husband steal for you?”
He stopped short and listened. Loud knocking sounded somewhere below.
“All I want you to do is to let me out the front door; and don’t tell. Say you didn’t see me.”
Already he had shuffled through the dining-room, Delia following him into the narrow, short, dark hall.
“If any one knocks don’t answer,” he whispered. “Don’t light any lights.”
He opened the front door cautiously.