When Herrick struggled with himself and would not, Denny at length began. "I won't pretend to deny that she came here to find me. I only deny that she did find me. I missed her, poor child. Doesn't that content you?"
And Herrick asked him in the strangling voice of hate, "Do you usually have ladies meet you here? At this hour?"
"No. That's what disturbs me. It must have been something very urgent. She couldn't trust the telephone and she couldn't wait till morning. She knows that now I almost never sleep, and that I can't bear to be awake with walls around me; if I'm not careful I shall have walls around me close enough. I come here, as Chris remembered, because—I must be somewhere. So she chanced it. She didn't find me. I came just too late."
Herrick rose. He felt as if he were stifling. "Do you pretend to tell me, then, that you don't know why she came?"
"No, I'd better not pretend that. I suppose I know why she came." He added, very low, in his clear voice, "I suppose she came to warn me."
"Warn you? Of what?"
"Come, do I need to tell you that? Her mother must have told her that you recognized me to-night and that the elevator boy recognized me, too, and told you."
"You saw all that?"
"I saw all that."
"And did nothing?"