“Mr. Hunt has written me the main facts about you, certainly the worst,” she said finally.  “You need tell me nothing further, if you prefer not to do so; but it might be helpful if I knew more of the details.”

Larry felt that there was no information he was not willing to give this clear-eyed, charming woman; and so he told her all that had happened since his return from Sing Sing, including his falling in love with Maggie, the nature of their conflict, her departure into the ways of her ambition.

“You are certainly facing a lot of difficult propositions.”  Miss Sherwood checked them off on her fingers.  “The police are after you—­ your old friends are after you—­you do not dare be caught.  You want to clear yourself—­you want to make a business success—­you want to eradicate Maggie’s present ambitions and remove her from her present influences.”

“That is the correct total,” said Larry.

“Certainly a large total!  Of them all, which is the most important item?”

Larry considered.  “Maggie,” he confessed.  “But Maggie really includes all the others.  To have any influence with her, I must get out of the power of the police, I must overcome her belief that I am a stool and a squealer, and I must prove to her that I can make a success by going straight.”

“Just so.  And all these things you must do while a fugitive in hiding.”

“Exactly.  Or else not do them.”

“H’m! . . .  The most pressing thing, I judge, is to have a safe and permanent place to hide, and to have work which may lead to an opportunity to prove yourself a success.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hunt’s O.K. on you would be sufficient, in any event, and he has given that O.K.,” Miss Sherwood said in her even voice.  “Besides, my own judgment prompts me to believe in your truth and your sincerity.  I have been thinking the matter over since I saw you last night.  I therefore ask you to remain here, never leaving the apartment—­”

“Miss Sherwood!” he ejaculated.

“And a little later, when we go out to our place on Long Island, you’ll have more freedom.  For the present you will be, to the servants and any other persons who may chance to come in, Mr. Brandon, a second cousin staying with us; and your explanation for never venturing forth can be that you are convalescing after an operation.  Perhaps you can think of a plan whereby later on you might occasionally leave the house without too great risk to yourself.”

“Yes.  The risk comes from the police, and from some of my old friends and the gangsters they have enlisted.  So long as they believe me in New York, they’ll all be on the lookout for me every moment.  If they believed me out of New York, they would all discontinue their vigilance.  If—­if—­But perhaps you would not care to do so much.”

“Go on.”

“Would you be willing to write a letter to some friend in Chicago, requesting the friend to post an enclosed letter written by me?”