"Because I don't want you to," she told him.
"Leslie! Surely you're not trying to pit your influence against hers? What?" he said, his smile changing to an expression of slight annoyance.
"No, indeed," she replied. "It's something else."
"Why, then?"
"That's the trouble—I don't know. Only, he was, is still, my father's enemy. Oh, I have seen his fury—he meant murder—he did murder...."
"It is because the case is a murder case," explained the Governor, "that it troubles me. It's the first murder case since my election, and really, I don't know—I can't promise anything now."
Madeline Braine lived up to her promises. Day after day for a week she had waited persistently in the Governor's ante-room, buoyed up with the hope that eventually he would accede to her wishes. At last her patience was rewarded: for the Governor, passing through the room where she waited, suddenly announced to his private secretary that he would consent to an interview with Ilingsworth the following day at noon. And turning to the woman, he added:
"I want you here, Miss Braine, too."
Phillips, the Governor's private secretary, frowned to himself. Unknown to the Governor, he was one of Wilkinson's most faithful men—placed at the Governor's side apparently by the Governor's untrammelled choice—but actually forced upon him without his own knowledge.
"I don't like this a little bit," thought Phillips to himself. "It looks bad, bad...."