Mostyn shrank into his chair. "I wouldn't take this from any one else, Jarvis," he said, almost in a piteous whine. "You have got me down. I'm in no shape for any sort of resentment."
"You got yourself where you are," Saunders ran on, fiercely. "If I am indignant, I can't help it. I would give my right arm to help that poor child, and this powerlessness to act when her suffering is so great drives me to absolute frankness."
"What is the use to talk more of it?" Mostyn said, desperately. "We are getting nowhere."
"There is something else, and I must speak of it," Saunders said, more calmly. "I happen to know the character of Dolly's father perhaps better than you do, and I must tell you, Mostyn, that he is the most dangerous man I ever met. It is my duty to put you on your guard. There is bound to be more or less talk up there, for there are a great many meddlers, and Tom Drake is more than apt to hear of this thing. If he does, Mostyn, an army couldn't stop him. When he is wrought up he is insane. He will come down here and try to kill you. I am going back up there to-day, and if I can possibly prevent trouble I shall do it."
Mostyn had turned deathly pale. "Surely he would not compromise his daughter by such a--a step as that," he stammered.
"Few other men would, but Tom Drake is not like other men. I have seen him fairly froth at the mouth in a fight with three men as big as he was."
Mostyn's lips moved, but no sound issued. Without another word Saunders turned and walked away.
"Great God!" Mostyn whispered in agony, "what am I?"