"I was very rude," she said, "but you will forgive me when I explain
the cause. I had to act as I did or else lose my hold entirely on that
man--you understand?"
"I do not need to understand," he answered gallantly. "It is enough
that you say so."
"No, it is not enough. I value your friendship, Mr. Westcott, and I
need your advice. I find myself confronting a very complicated case
under unfamiliar conditions. I hardly know what to do."
"You may feel confidence in me."
"Oh, I do; indeed, you cannot realise how thoroughly I trust you," and
impulsively she touched his hand with her own. "That is why I wrote
you to meet me here--so I could tell you the whole story."
He waited, his eyes on her face.
"I received my letter this morning--the letter I told you I expected,
containing my instructions. They--they relate to this man Ned Beaton
and the woman he expects on this train."
"Your instructions?" he echoed doubtfully. "You mean you have been
sent after these people on some criminal matter? You are a detective?"
There must have been a tone of distrust to his voice, for she turned
and faced him defiantly.
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