tell anything more than the time of day. And now, dear, what is this beastly business?"
She closed the door to the stairway, very cautiously, and then came back to him. The frown deepened in his eyes as he listened to the story she told.
"But why should I go into hiding?" he exclaimed, as she stopped to get her breath. "I haven't done anything wrong. What if they have trumped up some rotten charge against me? All the more reason why I should stand out and defend—"
"But, dear, Scotland Yard is such a dreadful place," she cried, blanching. "They—"
"Rubbish! I'm not afraid of Scotland Yard."
"You—you're not?" she gasped, blankly. "But, Eric dear, you must be afraid of Scotland Yard. You don't know what you are saying."
"Oh, yes, I do. And as for this chap they've sent after me,—where is he? In two seconds I can tell him what's what. He'll go humping back to London—"
"I knew you would say something like that," she declared, greatly perturbed. "But I sha'n't let you. Do you hear, Eric? I sha'n't let you. You must hide. You must go away from New York,—tonight."
"And leave you?" he scoffed. "What can you be thinking of, darling? Am I— Sit down, dear,—here beside me. You are frightened. That infernal brute has scared you almost out of—"
"I am frightened,—terribly frightened. So is the Marchioness,—and Mr. Bramble." She sat beside him on the bench. He took her cold hands in his own and pressed them gently, encouragingly. His eyes were very soft and tender.
