"I'll do thet, sir, and y' may depend 'n me fur it."

"You say Thursday night? Keep me informed of any further developments.

At any rate, I shall see you before then. Remember, however," he cautioned, "what I have just confided to you must be kept with the utmost secrecy."

He raised his hand high above his head and stood up.

"I hope t' G.o.d I die----"

"Never mind swearing," interrupted Stephen, pulling him back again into his chair. "Simply be on your guard, that is all."

"Yes, sir."

"You are right to come back," he said; "you should have persevered in your resistance."

"I couldn't help it, could I? I was made t'."

"We become vigorous under persecution," answered Stephen.

"I'm sorry."

"Well then--tell me. Do you know aught of this Mr. Anderson?"

He stared at him with a questioning look. He was completely bewildered.

"Thet I don't. Why? What--what could I know?"

"I mean do you know who he is?"

He sat up.

"Why, I never thought o' him. He seem'd c'rrect 'nough, I thought.

Marj'rie brought 'im here, I think."

Stephen set his teeth.

"Marjorie?" he repeated. "Are you sure of that?"

"I am, sir."

"When was this?"

"It's a good time now. I jest can't r'member."

"Did she know of his purpose?"

He paused as if he would say more, but dared not.

"Thet I can't say. If I r'member c'rrectly she kept herself wid th' old lady."

"How often did she accompany him?"

"Just thet once."

"You mean she simply made you acquainted with him?"

"Yes, sir."

A light began to glimmer in Stephen's mind, and gradually the truth began to dawn upon him.

"In her presence, I presume, the conversation was more or less general.

He alluded to the scheme which was uppermost in his mind only secretly with you?"

"Thet wuz all, sir."

He knew well enough now what his friend meant, though nothing of the details, and from the uncertainty and the apprehension of his manner he judged that there was much of which he was still in the dark. Anderson had come to Jim with the girl to secure an advantageous introduction; after that he had no immediate need of her company. He was of the opinion that she was entirely ignorant of the man's character and motives, although she was unwittingly an important instrument in his hands. Stephen longed to reveal the truth of the situation to her, but dared not; at any rate, thought he, not until the proper time came. Then she would be enabled to appreciate for herself the trend of the whole affair.

"Can I ask ye," inquired Jim in a voice that indicated timidity, "will this affair--I mean, d'ye s'ppse this thing 'll bring us t' eny harm, 'r thet they'll be a disorder?"

Stephen's eyes danced with excitement.

"Do they observe the courtesies of the law? If it comes to the worst, yes,--there will be a scene and the grandest scene in which a villain ever partic.i.p.ated."

Marjorie entering through the gate posts immediately commanded their attention.

III

"I should be happy to be permitted to accompany you home," Stephen whispered to her at a moment when they chanced to be alone.

"I should be happy to have you," was the soft response.

"You look well," she said to him after they had made their adieus to the Cadwaladers and begun their walk together down the street.

Her eyes twinkled, and a pretty smile stole across her face.

"I am as tired as I can be. I have endured some trying experiences."

"Can you not leave here and take a rest? I fear that you will overtax yourself."

He turned and looked seriously at her.

"Honestly?" he asked.

"Yes. I mean it. Do you know that I have allowed no day to pa.s.s without praying for you?"

"To know that, and to hear you say it is worth a series of adventures.

But, really, I could not think of leaving here now; not for another fortnight at least. The moments are too critical."