“Nothing,” he laughed. “The window of the next room is open a little, and the wind has blown the door to.”
By this, she was reassured, even though she feared that the horrid red-faced man whose name he refused to tell her, might again reappear there as her inquisitor.
“It seems to me,” she said, “that your friends, whoever they are, are dishonourable men whose bread you are compelled to eat. Surely you are in a position quite as wretched as I am?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But do me one favour, Miss Gwen. Never breathe to a soul that I’ve handed the copy of that document to the Doctor. If they knew that, they would never forgive me.”
“I will remain silent, and I’ll tell my father also to regard your action as confidential.”
“Tell Mr Farquhar also,” he urged.
“Ah!” sighed the girl. “Unfortunately I never see him now. He always meets my father at the Royal Societies Club—in order to avoid me.”
“Then there is an actual breach between you?”
“Yes,” she replied hoarsely. “He asked me certain questions, to which I could not reply without betraying you.”
“And you risked your love for a worthless fellow like myself!”