Last night we met him at Walter
Crease's."
Once more he turned a little nervously towards Tavernake, who was
looking down into the body of the restaurant with immovable face.
"We tried to persuade him then to go away. He is really in
rather a dangerous position here. Jimmy Post has sworn that he
will not be taken back to New York, and there are one or two
others--a pretty desperate crew. We tried last night to reason
with Pritchard."
"It was no good?" she whispered.
"No good at all," the professor answered, drily. "Perhaps, if we
had not been interrupted, we might have convinced him."
"Tell me about it," she begged.
The professor shook his head. Tavernake still had that air of
paying no attention whatever to their conversation.
"It is not for you to know about, my dear," he concluded. "You
have chosen very wisely to keep out of these matters. Elizabeth
has such wonderful courage. My own nerve, I regret to say, is
not quite what it was. Waiter, I will take a liqueur of the old
brandy in a large glass."
The brandy was brought, but the professor seemed haunted by
memories and his spirits never wholly returned. Not until the
lights were turned down and Tavernake had paid the bill, did he
partially recover his former manner.
"Dear child," he said, as they stood up together, "I cannot tell
you what the pleasure has been of this brief reunion."
She rested her fingers upon his shoulders and looked up into his
face.
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