"But surely," I objected, "he must have guessed you were on my side?"
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yes," she said, "he guessed that all right. It's what he calls 'a sacred bond between us.' There are times, you know, when George is almost funny."
"There are times," I said, "when he must make Judas Iscariot feel sick."
"I sometimes wonder why I haven't killed him," she went on slowly. "I think I should have if he had ever tried to kiss me. As it is—" she laughed again in the same way—"as it is we are becoming great friends. He is taking me out to dinner at the Savoy tonight."
"But if he doesn't try to make love to you—" I began.
"Oh!" she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders, "that's coming. At present he imagines that he is being clever and diplomatic. Also there's a business side to the matter."
"Yes," I said; "there would be with George."
"He's horribly frightened of you. Of course he tries to hide it from me, but I can see that ever since you escaped from prison he has been living in a state of absolute terror. His one idea at present is a frantic hope that you will be recaptured. That's partly where I come in."
"You?" I repeated.
"Yes. He thinks that sooner or later, when you want help, you will probably write and tell me where you are."