“Well, no, not exactly.  I didn’t think that.  I don’t know what I thought.  Oh, honey, I’ve been so worried.  You know, I didn’t sleep at all.  I thought I was stronger than that; but I was so worried about you.  You know, he put me in a strong light by his desk, where he could see my face, and then he showed me the letter.  I was so astonished for a moment I hardly know what I said or how I looked.”

“What did you say?”

“Why, I said:  ‘What a shame!  It isn’t so!’ But I didn’t say it right away.  My heart was going like a trip-hammer.  I’m afraid he must have been able to tell something from my face.  I could hardly get my breath.”

“He’s a shrewd man, your father,” he commented.  “He knows something about life.  Now you see how difficult these situations are.  It’s a blessing he decided to show you the letter instead of watching the house.  I suppose he felt too bad to do that.  He can’t prove anything now.  But he knows.  You can’t deceive him.”

“How do you know he knows?”

“I saw him yesterday.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

“No; I saw his face.  He simply looked at me.”

“Honey!  I’m so sorry for him!”

“I know you are.  So am I. But it can’t be helped now.  We should have thought of that in the first place.”

“But I love you so.  Oh, honey, he will never forgive me.  He loves me so.  He mustn’t know.  I won’t admit anything.  But, oh, dear!”

She put her hands tightly together on his bosom, and he looked consolingly into her eyes.  Her eyelids, were trembling, and her lips.  She was sorry for her father, herself, Cowperwood.  Through her he could sense the force of Butler’s parental affection; the volume and danger of his rage.  There were so many, many things as he saw it now converging to make a dramatic denouement.

“Never mind,” he replied; “it can’t be helped now.  Where is my strong, determined Aileen?  I thought you were going to be so brave?  Aren’t you going to be?  I need to have you that way now.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I think I am going to fail, dear.”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes, honey.  I’m at the end of my rope.  I don’t see any way out just at present.  I’ve sent for my father and my lawyer.  You mustn’t stay here, sweet.  Your father may come in here at any time.  We must meet somewhere—­to-morrow, say—­to-morrow afternoon.  You remember Indian Rock, out on the Wissahickon?”

“Yes.”

“Could you be there at four?”

“Yes.”

“Look out for who’s following.  If I’m not there by four-thirty, don’t wait.  You know why.  It will be because I think some one is watching.  There won’t be, though, if we work it right.  And now you must run, sweet.  We can’t use Nine-thirty-one any more.  I’ll have to rent another place somewhere else.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”