“I am not here of my own free will,” she said slowly. “It is because I am compelled.”
“Compelled! By whom?”
“By your enemies, Allan. Ah! heed me—do heed me, and get away from here at once.”
“Why may I not remain as your protector?” I demurred.
“Because I need none; for me there is no protection,” and she trembled as she stood before me.
“Where is your father?”
“I don’t know,” she responded. “Some strange events have happened since we met last.”
“But you still trust me, dearest?” I cried passionately, bending until my lips touched hers lightly. They were cold, and her features seemed like marble.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I still trust you, Allan. My only fear is for your safety, not for mine. Recollect that we are dealing with people who are desperate—who will stick at nothing in order to gain their own sinister ends.”
The thought of that weird sign in Bloomsbury crossed my mind, and I fell to wondering.