“Nothing. We met only once.”
“Where?”
“Well—our meeting was under rather curious circumstances. He is your friend, therefore please pardon me if I do not reply to your question,” was her vague response.
“Then what do you anticipate from those men, Reckitt and Forbes?” I asked.
“Only evil—distinct evil,” she replied. “They will return, and strike when you least expect attack.”
“But if I do not go to the police, why should they fear me? They are quite welcome to the money they have stolen—so long as they allow me peace in the future.”
“Which I fear they will not do,” replied the girl, shaking her head.
“You speak very apprehensively,” I said. “What is there really to fear? Perhaps it would be best if I went to the police at once. They would then dig over that neglected garden and reveal its secrets.”
“No!” she cried again, starting wildly from her chair as though in sudden terror. “I beg of you not to do that, Mr. Biddulph. It would serve no purpose, and only create a great sensation. But the culprits would never be brought to justice. They are far too clever, and their conspiracies are too far-reaching. No, remain patient. Take the greatest care of your own personal safety—and you may yet be able to combat your enemies with their own weapons.”
“I shall be able, Sylvia—providing that you assist me,” I said.