"I was thinking I couldn't see you until next week."
"No," said Hale. "No; of course not." He seemed to suspect that Gregg had something difficult to say to him; and he turned about and closed the door. "What's up, Gregg?
"Russell," Gregg said; and, having thus forced himself to go on; "It's none of my affair why he's talking about getting you; but I'm to tell you he means more than talk. Don't give him a chance to start anything to-night, sir. If you have to go to St. Louis, wait a while; and then let your own man take you down to the Alton Station."
Watching Marjorie's father, Gregg queerly experienced respect and disrespect for him, together; for mention of Russell's name brought not the slightest disturbance to him. Mr. Hale's control of himself was something to envy; yet Gregg had become certain that he was involved with Russell, and Gregg could no longer give him honor of the doubt of that which he previously had thought true, and yet which had been, until now, only hearsay.
Hale was studying Gregg silently. "Thank you, Mowbry," he said at last, neither by tone nor word admitting nor denying that he understood the warning. "I appreciate your thought for me. Don't worry about me, now or later."
He turned briskly and opened the door; a minute later, Gregg heard him saying good-by to his wife in the hall. She mentioned some matter which he told her not to bother herself about, but to leave for him to attend to upon his return. He kissed her; she spoke to him, fondly, and she went downstairs. Then Marjorie came from her room and whispered to him,
