This struck him that an imprisonment of several days must be intended. He felt sorry for the unfortunate girl, yet he dare not connive at her escape. He knew, alas! that he was now upon very dangerous ground.
The whole day they sat together gossiping. For luncheon they had cold tongue and bread, and for dinner the same.
The situation was indeed a curious one, yet as the hours went by and he attempted to amuse her by relating humorous incidents in his own adventurous life, she gradually grew to believe that he was devoid of any sinister intention.
Times without number she tried to persuade him to release her, but he explained his inability. Then, at evening, they sat at the fireside and while he smoked she chattered, though she told him practically nothing concerning herself.
He could not help admiring her neat daintiness and her self-possession. She was a frank, sweet-faced girl, scarce more than a child, whose wonderful eyes held even him, an adventurer, in strange fascination. And that night, when she retired to her room, he handed her the key of her door that she might lock herself in, and said:
“Sleep in peace, Miss Griffin. I give you my promise that you shall not be disturbed.”
And he bowed to her with all the courtesy of a true-born gentleman.
He sat smoking, thinking deeply and wondering why the girl had been confined there. He was annoyed, for by her presence there he also was held a prisoner.
Just before midnight the bell of the front door rang, and a commissionaire handed him a telegram. The message was in an unintelligible code, which however, he read without hesitation. Then he tossed the message into the fire with an imprecation, switched off the light, and went to bed.
Next day passed just as the first, but he saw, by the girl’s pale face and darkening eyes, that the constant anxiety was telling upon her. Yes, he pitied her. And she, on her part, began to regard him more as her protector than as her janitor.