“And, in return, how have I been served?” asked Charlie, bitterly. “My poor sister has been turned adrift, and you have refused to lift a finger to reinstate her.”
“I admit that on the face of it, Rolfe, I have been hard and cruel,” declared the old man. “But when you know the truth you will not, perhaps, think so unkindly of me as at this moment.”
The old fellow was perfectly calm. All his fear had vanished, and he now stood his old and usual self, full of quiet assurance.
“Well,” Rolfe said, “perhaps you will tell us the truth. Why, for instance, did Maud Petrovitch visit you to-night?”
“She came upon her own initiative. She wished to ask me a question.”
“Which you refused to answer.”
“It was not judicious for me to tell her what she desized to know—not at present, at least.”
“But now that we are here together, in confidence you will, no doubt, allow us to know where she and her father are in hiding,” Charlie asked, breathlessly.
“Certainly, if you will promise not to communicate with them or call upon them without my consent.”
“We promise,” declared Max.