I knew that I was tossed between two opposing forces.
I knew that a mysterious boy was supposed to be under my protection,
and that to gain and keep possession of him my life was sought and
defended. I knew that Doddridge Knapp had caused the murder of Henry
Wilton, and yet for some unfathomable reason gave me his confidence and
employment under the belief that I was Henry Wilton. But I had been
able to get no hint of who the boy might be, or where he was concealed,
or who was the hidden woman who employed me to protect him, or why he
was sought by Doddridge Knapp. Mother Borton's vague hints seemed
little better than guess-work. If she knew the name of the boy and the
identity of the woman, she had some good reason for concealing them. It
flashed over my mind that Mother Borton might herself be the mysterious
employer. I had never yet seen a line of her handwriting, and the notes
might have come from her. It was she who first had told me that my men
were already paid, and a few hours later I had found the note from my
employer assuring me that the demands were fully settled. Could it be
that she was the woman with whom Doddridge Knapp was battling with a
desperate purpose that did not stop at murder? The idea was gone as
soon as it came. It was preposterous to suppose that these two could
feel so overwhelming an interest in the same child.
How long I sat by the desk waiting, thinking, planning, I know not. One
scheme of action after another I had considered and rejected, when a
sound broke on my listening ears.
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