One afternoon she was on her way home from her lesson when she heard a voice call, "Miss Grandoken!" She glanced up swiftly, recognizing the speaker immediately. He had been present that first night she had played for Theodore's guests, and she remembered vividly her intuitive dislike of him; but because he was a friend of Theodore's she went forward eagerly. The man drove his car to the side of the pavement and bowed.
"Would you care to be of service to Mr. King?" he asked, smiling.
Jinnie noticed his dazzling teeth and scarlet lips.
"Oh, yes, indeed! I wish I might."
"Then come with me," replied the man. "Will you?"
Without fear she entered the open car door and sat down, placing her violin on the seat beside her. She sank back with a sigh. The time had come she had so longed for; she was going to do something for Theodore. She was glad now she had consented to take two lessons that day, or she would have missed this blessed opportunity to show her gratitude to her dear one, in acts, as well as words. The car turned and sped up the hill.
If Jinnie wondered where the man was taking her, she did not allude to it. They were driving in the same direction she took every day to visit the master, and the very familiarity of it turned aside any question that arose in her mind. As he helped her from the machine, she looked up at the sombre building in front of them. In passing it daily she had often wondered what it was and if any one lived within its vast stone walls. One hasty glance, as she was being ushered in, showed paint pails, brushes, and long ropes fastened from the roof to broad planks below.
"Miss Merriweather will be here very soon," the man explained good-naturedly. "She wants you to go with her to the hospital."
Jinnie's mind flew to that one time she had visited Theodore's sick bed. She would be glad to see Molly the Merry.
She had forgiven all the woman's cruelty.
The long flights of stairs they mounted were dark and uncarpeted. Their footsteps made a hollow sound through the wide corridors, and there was no other sign of human life about the place. But still Jinnie followed the man in front of her, up and up, until she had counted five floors. Then he took a key from his pocket and put it in the lock, turning it with a click.
Jinnie waited until, stepping inside, he turned and smilingly bade her enter. There was so little natural suspicion in the girl's heart that she never questioned the propriety, much less the safety, of coming into a strange place with an unknown man. Her dear one was ill. She was anxious to see him again, to help him if possible. She felt a little shy at the thought of seeing Miss Merriweather once more. The man led her to an inner room and suavely waved to a chair, asking her to be seated. Casting anxious eyes about the place, she obeyed.