“Not tonight, my dear,” replied Robles, with gentle firmness. “But tomorrow morning, certainly, I would suggest that you drive over to Bakersfield. He will appreciate your kindness in paying him this prompt visit, and you can at the same time convey to him my message of absolute belief in his innocence.”
“You will not come, too?”
“I can do more for him, Merle, by not going to Bakersfield for the present. Do not forget that for reasons of my own I live in seclusion. My name must be mentioned to no one but Mr. Willoughby. Trust me, all three of you, and leave me to work quietly alone and by my own methods. There, I give my promise. The captive will be set free within a short time. My hand on that, and you know that I never break my word.”
There was a joyous smile of confidence on his face as he spoke the words. Merle took the extended hand gratefully, trustfully, and pressed it to her lips. Robles went on:
“My advice is—try to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, or within a few brief tomorrows, all will be well. Good night.”
Tia Teresa followed him from the open door down into the outer hall.
“You heard everything,” he said as he paused to speak a final word of parting. “Comfort her, but at the same time guard our secret closer than ever. Not one hair of Willoughby’s head will be touched—make her know that for certain. And everything will come right in a very little time.”
“My poor little girl,” he murmured to himself as he strode down the silent tree-shadowed avenue.