"At your own peril—a deadly peril!" she ejaculated, with an apprehensive look.
"I must accept the risk," I said quietly. "And I intend to still stand your friend, Lola."
"But you must not, you cannot!" she protested. "Of course I most deeply appreciate all that you have done for me—and how generous you have been, knowing that I am, alas! what I am. But I will not allow you to risk your life further on my account."
"That is really my own affair."
"No. It is mine. I am here to-day, in secret, solely to warn you—to ask you—to give up this inquiry, and allow the matter to rest a mystery," she protested. "Will you not do this for my sake?" she pleaded.
For a few seconds I paused, smiling at her. Then I replied—
"No. I cannot promise that. Young Craig was foully murdered, of that I am confident, and I intend to unravel the mystery."
"Even though it costs you your life?" she asked slowly.
Why, I wondered, was she so frantically anxious for me to abandon the inquiry? Was it really because she feared that her uncle might attempt to rid himself of me, or had she some other hidden motive?
The expression upon her sweet face had altered. It was eager and apprehensive—a curious look, such as I had never witnessed there before.