He smiled affectionately.
“You are worth any amount of trouble and expense,” he rejoined gallantly. “But I must be honest. I have come to Haifa this time for a special purpose; and I believe you can help me, Raie.”
“Yes?” She became serious. “What is it? Of course I will help you if I can.”
He rose from his chair, and closing the door, looked stealthily round the room.
“There are some papers in connection with—the forgery,” he said, in a low but clear voice. “They must be in Lionel’s keeping; unless they have been destroyed, which is unlikely. I want them—I must have them—in order to verify a certain piece of evidence in connection with the case. And as I cannot ask for them without disclosing my identity, I want you to get them for me, dear.”
“I? But how can I?” She looked up with a startled expression on her face. “Lionel keeps most of his documents at the solicitors’—at least he used to do in England. I have not the slightest idea where to look for them. Where do you think they will be?”
For answer, he walked to the iron safe which stood in the opposite corner, and tapped it with his stick.
“This is where they will be—docketed all together with the date 19— and probably labelled ‘Ferdinand.’” He turned towards her with a gesture of appeal, and held out his hands. “Raie, you will manage this for me, dear, won’t you? Oh, you must, you must! It is of such great importance—it will finally vindicate my character—it will mean happiness for us both. Look, this is a patent lock. I don’t know how it works, but you must seize an opportunity of watching Lionel open it; and then by hook or crook you must get hold of the keys. The papers are of no use to him—he will never miss them; but they are of the greatest consequence in the world to me, and it is of no use for me to return to England without them. Afterwards, when the whole thing is cleared up, we will tell him all about it; and I know he will say our action was justified. Raie—don’t look so strange—it’s nothing; and you have pluck. Put yourself in my position—an innocent man falsely accused. Oh, you will do it for me—for me! I know you will!”
She stood quite still, and for a moment made no response. Her face was white, and her brown eyes looked preternaturally large and troubled. And when she spoke her voice sounded strangely hoarse.
“You want me to—steal some papers out of Lionel’s safe,” she said, with difficulty. “Oh, but, Ferdinand, I—I can’t; it would not be right. Why do you not take him into your confidence instead, and ask him for them yourself? He is such a good man; he would never betray your trust.”