He looked at her almost pitingly. "Really, Helen, he must have hypnotised you. You know he's a thief. I caught him in the act; he's confessed to you. What more can you want?" She gazed steadily up into his face. "Won't you let him go if I assure you that in arresting him you'll be making the mistake of your life?" "No. Because I know that you, in believing that, are mistaken." She was silent a moment; her brown eyes never left his face. "Won't you let him go because I, a friend, ask it as a favour?" "You are making it very hard for me," he said in genuine distress. "You know it's a duty to society to put such men where they can do no harm." "Nothing can prevent your arresting him?" she asked slowly. "It's my duty," he said. Her face was turning gray with despair, when her eyes began to widen and her lips to part, and she drew in a long, slow breath and one hand crept up to her bosom. She looked about at David. "Will you please wait for me in the library," she said; and she added immediately to Allen, "I'll give you bond for his return when you want him." David bowed and left the room. Helen caught the back of a chair. The hand above her heart pressed tightly. "You have left me but one thing more to say for him," she said in a low voice. "And that?" asked Allen. "I love him." He stepped back and his face went as pale as her own. Several moments passed before words came from him. "You love Mr. Aldrich?" asked a strange whisper. "I love him," she said. Again several moments passed before he spoke, and when he did speak his words were to himself rather than to her. "And this is my answer?" "Forgive me--because it came this way," she begged. There was silence between them. "He is safe," he said. He continued gazing at her several moments, then without speaking again he left the room. CHAPTER IX FATHER AND DAUGHTER For several minutes after Allen had gone, Helen sat, her face in her hands, waiting for the refluence of her strength. Then she walked back to the library, where she found David pacing restlessly to and fro. He saw that she was very white and that she was trembling, and forbearing to question her he led her to a deep easy-chair before the open wood fire. But she saw his suspense and at once told him that Allen would be silent. Gently, reverently, David laid his hand upon her hair, and of all the things in his heart he could only say, "You saved me." She drew his hand down and held it against her cheek and gazed up into his eyes. He sat down on the arm of her chair. They had both been through too great a strain to fall into easy converse, and for several minutes each was filled with quivering thoughts. Presently David remembered what he had forgotten since entering the house--his experience at St. John's Hospital. He told her the story, and when he had ended he drew out the packet containing the yellow letters, the photograph and the two notes of five years before.