Yes, almost. Only almost."

And then a sudden fear overcame her.

"No," she cried, "do not go, do not go! Stay with me; stay here. I feel
so frightened. I don't know what comes over me. I am afraid--afraid for
you."

"No, dear," he rejoined, "you need not be afraid. In your heart you
don't want me to desert a friend, and, besides, leave the best part of
my artistic life in Reginald's clutch."

"Why should you expose yourself to God knows what danger for a friend
who is ready to betray you?"

"You forget friendship is a gift. If it exacts payment in any form, it
is no longer either friendship or a gift. And you yourself have assured
me that I have nothing to fear from Reginald. I have nothing to give to
him."

She rallied under his words and had regained her self-possession when
the door closed behind him. He walked a few blocks very briskly. Then
his pace slackened. Her words had unsettled him a little, and when he
reached home he did not at once resume his exploration of Reginald's
papers. He had hardly lit a cigarette when, at an unusually early hour,
he heard Reginald's key in the lock.

Quickly he turned the light out and in the semi-darkness, lit up by an
electric lantern below, barricaded the door as on the previous night.
Then he went to bed without finding sleep.