Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/182

170 "Why?"

"Because it's your only chance of a get-away," I tried to explain to her.

"One grand little way of hitting the pike, isn't it," she mocked, "going to bed and dreaming you're on a boat for Europe?"

"But I want you in that bed!"

"And how do I know what's going to walk in on me?" demanded that suspicious-minded visitor. But I knew from that question that she was beginning to give in.

"Nothing will walk in on you," I tried to assure her. "There's a sick woman supposed to be in that bed, and …"

"Well, that must be me," she cut in, "for this whole business makes me good and sick!"

"But if you throw the bluff of being asleep you can stay there until morning, if you want to, or at least until your chance of a get-away shows up."

"And what are you going to do?"

"That's my own business," I promptly told her, for I could see that we were only wasting precious time.

She suddenly started to laugh as she stared across the room at me. But that laugh of hers was about as warm as Christmas snow on a convent roof.