Pretend to quarrel
with me."
Eva read in amazement as he wrote. Quickly she comprehended. Then they
walked silently until they were almost under the chandelier which held
the transmitter of the dictagraph.
"I have something I want to say to you, Mr. Locke," began Eva, with a
wink and a smile at him, "and it grieves me to say it."
"What is it?" asked Locke, with distinct anxiety, winking back.
"I am afraid I shall have to dispense with your services," continued
Eva, as she reached out her hand and gave Locke's a little squeeze.
Up-stairs, Balcom and Zita listened intently, their heads close together
so that each could catch every word. Balcom was nodding with
satisfaction. Each looked at the other as though they could hardly
believe their ears.
"But I have tried to serve and protect you," protested Locke, as his
face wreathed in smiles at Eva, who was carrying the deception off
perfectly. Then he added, plaintively, "I am sorry that I have failed."
"Your protection has led me into danger," returned Eva, in her best
voice to denote anger, "and your seeming interest is out of place--and,
besides, _Mr.
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