"That's not a pretty way to say it, Miss von Essen."
"I shouldn't say so. If I were describing the thing I'd say that your father thought I was a reasonably decent fellow, and was willing to trust you with me."
"My father is afraid to allow me at large?"
"Why, he seemed to want to keep you under his eye."
"If he is afraid I'll do something if I get out of the house, how does he suppose you can prevent me?... Especially in a public place. Suppose I were to decide I wanted to be alone--to leave you. How would you prevent it?"
"Now, Miss von Essen--I'm just the pleasant young man who is allowed to run around with you. I don't know why I'm allowed, but I'm delighted that it's so. I'm sure if your father trusted you to me you wouldn't do anything to get me in bad with him."
He moved his chair closer and leaned forward. "You haven't seemed happy with your father?"
"Well," she said, with a wry smile, "there's the new lock, for one thing."
She stared at him, quite taken by surprise.
"Exactly," said he. "You know, Hildegarde, I've been attracted by you. You've seen that.... You couldn't help it. I'd have told you before this--that I love you and want you to marry me, but the moment never seemed to come.... But I can tell you now.... You're unhappy here. Something has gone very wrong.... I offer you a way out--and once married to me, you are free of Herman von Essen--free of him forever.... Won't you think about it, Hildegarde? I wouldn't be such a rotten husband, and I'm mighty fond of you."
Her eyes blazed. "Did you and father think marriage would close my mouth?"
"You think if I were married to you you would have me safe. Oh, you understand me, all right.... I'm not so blind. You know I've suspected you, and now I know. I know.... This _proves_ it. I know who you are."
"You are the man who was in this library talking to father. You are the man who trapped him; who forced him to be a spy and a traitor.... Not that he needed forcing past anything but his cowardice.... You're a German spy, in command of German spies. You're the man who plans these explosions and fires and murders--and sets tools to carry out your plans...."
"Nonsense!" said Cantor, with an easy laugh. "You've been having nightmare. Why," he declared, "I'm French! At least I was born in Alsace.... Wherever did you get such a notion?"