earnest voice. "Why? Is there any service I can render you?"
"Yes. A very great one," she responded with quick eagerness. "I — well — the fact is, I have summoned courage to come to you and beg of you to help me. I am in great distress — and I have not a single friend whom I can trust — in whom I can confide."
"I shall esteem it the highest honour if you will trust me," I said in deep earnestness. "I can only assure you that I will remain loyal to your interests and to yourself."
"Ah! I believe you will, Mr. Gregg!" she declared with enthusiasm, her large dark eyes turned upon me — the eyes of a woman in sheer end bitter despair. Her face was perfect, one of the most handsome I had ever gazed upon. The more I saw of her the greater was the fascination she held over me.
A silence fell between us as she sat with her gloved hands lying idly in her lap. Her lips moved nervously, but no sound came from them, so agitated was she, so eager to tell me something; and yet at the same time reluctant to take me into her confidence.
"Well?" I asked at last in a low voice. "I am quite ready to render you any service, if you will only command me."
"Ah! But I fear what I require will strike you as so unusual — you will hesitate to act when I explain what service I require of you," she said, doubtfully.
