She placed two appealing hands on his shoulders, and said brokenly: "Mr.Theydon--I am ready to trust you--next to--my own father....

Where shall we go?
What can we do?
I'll come with you--anywhere--only--my dear one must be rescued." He believed afterwards that he answered her by a kiss! He was not certain.

The delirium of the moment was such that he could never recall its words or acts with that precision which a well-regulated mind should display even under the stress of intense emotion.

In any event, the crisis was interrupted by the clamor of the telephone bell.
Withdrawing from what was perilously near an embrace--so colorable an imitation of the real thing that Winter, entering at that instant, could make no distinction, and was secretly amazed at these strenuous methods of consoling the lady--Theydon lifted the receiver, and heard as one in a trance the telephone operator's conventional announcement: "Trunk call from Croydon; you're through." "Who is it ?" demanded the chief inspector gruffly.
Even he, veteran fighter in the unceasing battle between the law and the malefactor, was feeling the strain of the Homeric struggle ushered in by the death of Edith Lester.
"I don't know yet," Theydon managed to say collectedly.

"Some one from Croydon.