But he held her still. "If I let you go, you'll wander maybe, and get
lost," he said.
His action surprised her, but yet that instinctive trust with which he
had inspired her long ago remained, refusing to be shaken.
"Put me right down!" she said again. "And tell me why you did it!"
He set her on her feet, but he still held her. "Can't you guess?" he
said.
"No!" she said. "No!"
She spoke a little wildly. Was it the first doubt that ran shadow--like
across her brain, leaving her so strangely cold? She wished it had not
been so dark, that she might see his face. "Tell me!" she said again.
But he did not tell her. "Don't be afraid!" was all he said in answer.
"You are--safe enough."
"But--but--Fletcher?" she questioned, desperately. "What of him?"
"He's safe too--for the present." There was something of grimness in his
reply. "He doesn't matter so much. He's been asking for trouble all
along--but he had no right--no right whatever--to bring you into it.
It's you that matters."
A curious, vibrant quality had crept into his voice, and an answering
tremor went through her; but she controlled it swiftly.
"And Adela," she said. "She was with Mr. Harley. What has become of her?"
"He will take care of her for his own sake. Leave her to him!" Warden
spoke with a hint of disdain. "She'll get nothing worse than a fright,"
he said, "possibly not even that--if he gets her to the manager's house
in time.
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