Elizabeth, if he should get away sometime! If some one should
come over from America and discover where he was! If he should
find us out! Oh, my God, if he should find us out!"
Elizabeth had risen to her feet. She was standing now before the
fire, her left elbow resting upon the mantelpiece, a trifle of
silver gleaming in her right hand.
"Father," she said, "there is no danger in life for those who
know no fear. Look at me."
His eyes sought hers, fascinated.
"If he should find me out," she continued, "it would be no such
terrible thing, after all. It would be the end."
Her fingers disclosed the little ornament she was carrying--a
tiny pistol. She slipped it back into her pocket. The man was
wondering how such a thing as this came to be his daughter.
"You have courage, Elizabeth," he whispered.
"I have courage," she assented, "because I have brains. I never
allow myself to be in a position where I should be likely to get
the worst of it. Ever since the day when he turned so suddenly
against me, I have been careful."
Her father leaned towards her.
"Elizabeth," he said, "I never really understood. What was it
that came over him so suddenly? One day he was your slave, the
next I think he would have murdered you if he could."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Honestly," she replied, "I felt it impossible to keep up the
sham any longer. I married Wenham Gardner in New York because he
was supposed to be a millionaire and because it seemed to be the
best thing to do, but as to living with him, I never meant that.
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