This view of the case was perfectly convincing to Saul and also to his wife when he repeated it at the supper-table; but it struck Maud with a sudden chill.  She remembered that when she had dismissed Offitt from that midnight conference at her casement, he had carefully taken the ladder away from her window, and had set it against the house some distance off.  She had admired at the time his considerate chivalry, and thought how nice it was to have a lover so obedient and so careful of her reputation.  But now, the detective’s ghastly discovery turned her thought in a direction which appalled her.  Could it be possible—­and all that money—­where did it come from?  As she sat with her parents in the gathering darkness, she kept her dreadful anxiety to herself.  She had been hoping all day to see her lover—­now she feared to have him come, lest her new suspicions might be confirmed.  She quickly resolved upon one thing:  she would not go away with him that night—­not until this horrible mystery was cleared up.  If she was worth having she was worth waiting for a little while.

They all three started as the door opened and Offitt came in.  He wasted no time in salutations, but said at once, “It’s a funny thing, but I have got a message for each of you.  The district attorney saw me coming up this way, Mr. Matchin, and asked me to tell you to come down as quick as you can to his office—­something very important, he said.  And, stranger than that, I met Mr. Wixham right out here by the corner, and he asked me if I was comin’ here, and if I would ask you, Mrs. Matchin, to come right up to their house.  Jurildy is sick and wants to see you, and he has run off for the doctor.”

Both the old people bustled up at this authoritative summons, and Offitt as they went out said, “I’ll stay a while and keep Miss Maud from gettin’ lonesome.”

“I wish you would,” said Mrs. Matchin.  “The house seems creepy-like with Sam where he is.”

Maud felt her heart sink at the prospect of being left alone with the man she had been longing all day to see.  She said, “Mother, I think I ought to go with you!”

“No, indeed,” her mother replied.  “You ain’t wanted, and it wouldn’t be polite to Mr. Offitt.”

The moment they were gone, Offitt sprang to the side of Maud, and seized her hands.

“Now, my beauty, you will be mine.  Put on your hat and we will go.”

She struggled to free her hands.

“Let go,” she said, “you hurt me.  Why are you in such a terrible hurry?”

“Why can you ask?  Your parents will be back in a few minutes.  Of course you know that story was only to get them out of our way.  Come, my beautiful Maud! my joy, my queen!  To-morrow New York! next day the sea, and then Europe and love and pleasure all your life.”

“I want to talk with you a minute,” said Maud, in a voice which trembled in spite of her efforts.  “I can’t talk in the dark.  Wait here, till I get a lamp.”