"Well, there's no need to hurry," I said. "I've brought someone back
with me, but we shan't want anything except a cup of tea, and I can
get that myself."
If he felt any curiosity about my guest he certainly did not show it.
"Aye," he remarked indifferently. "You won't 'ave no trouble about
that. The kettle's on the fire, an' there's a jug o' milk in the
larder."
He turned to his work again, and, resuming my way to the back of the
house, I passed in through the kitchen.
I took a strange delight in opening the front door and seeing
Christine step in over the threshold. At that moment everything
about her seemed to become real to me in a way that it had never been
before. I had a sort of feeling that we had suddenly escaped from
some fantastic melodrama, and were alone together in the actual world
for the first time.
She looked round, an almost childish pleasure in her brown eyes.
"It's charming," she exclaimed. "It's the kind of room one would
never want to go out of."
"That's how it strikes me just at present," I said. "Come and sit
down in front of the fire. You'll have time to get nice and dry
while I make the tea."
She crossed the room, and, sinking down with a little sigh of
contentment in one of the easy chairs, stretched out her hands
towards the hearth.
For a second or two I stood watching her, too happy to move; then,
wrenching my mind back to practical affairs, I started off
unwillingly towards the kitchen.
It did not take me long to collect what I wanted. The kettle was
already full of hot water, as Bascomb had told me, and while it was
boiling I wandered into the larder, and ran to earth an appetising
looking cake and a new tin of dessert biscuits. Returning with my
spoils, I filled up the teapot, and then, having set everything out
on a tray, I carried it carefully into the hall.
Christine examined the result of my labours with evident approval.
"I'm so glad you've got a good tea," she said. "I've had nothing to
eat since breakfast."
"In that case," I answered, "we'll feed first and talk afterwards.
One can't be empty and eloquent at the same time."
I sat down beside her and took control of the proceedings, sternly
insisting upon her carrying out my orders. It was not until she had
finished her third cup and successfully demolished two large slices
of cake that I would listen to the faintest protest, by which time
the colour had come back into her cheeks, and she was looking an
altogether different being.
"That's splendid," I remarked approvingly. "Now you shall have a
cigarette, and I'll tell you how it was that I happened to come
butting in just at the right moment. You had better let me explain
first; then we shall know exactly where we are."
She nodded her agreement, and, accepting a cigarette from the case
which I offered her, sank back again in the chair with her head
against the cushions.
I was much too impatient for her side of the story to waste any
unnecessary words over my own. At the same time I felt it was vital
to omit nothing which might be of real importance, so I began with a
rapid description of Manning's visit to the island.
I told her all about our midnight adventures in the hall, and of how
he had made a special point of my coming to see him on the barge;
then, after explaining the reason for my sudden trip to London, I
gave her a short but faithful account of everything that had happened
since.
It was easy to see from the look of indignant horror in her eyes that
she had known nothing about the death of Satan. She listened to me,
however, in absolute silence, her face alone betraying the intense
interest with which she was following every syllable. Even when I
had finished she still sat there for a moment without speaking, as
though trying to puzzle out the full significance of all she had just
heard. At last she straightened herself in the chair, and threw away
the half-smoked cigarette which she had been holding between her
fingers.
"I have treated you very unfairly," she said in a low voice. "I
ought to have told you the truth that day at Shalston. If anything
had happened to you it would have been entirely my fault."
"Oh, that's nonsense," I declared. "You're not responsible for your
relations any more than I am. Providence just dumped them on us, and
we've got to make the best of it."
There was a moment's pause.
"I wonder how much you have guessed," she said. "I wonder if you
have any idea of my uncle's real reasons for coming to England."
"I've got some notions on the subject," I admitted. "They're a
little muddled, because I can't quite fit in our friend Dr. Manning.
For a comparative stranger he appears to have rather an important
part in the show."
With the shadow of a smile on her lips she leaned forward.
"If you tell me what you know," she said, "the rest will be easier
for me to explain."
"Well, from what I've gathered one way and another," I began, "I
should say that it was the late lamented Mr. Richard Jannaway who was
responsible for the whole trouble. He was always a bad hat; in fact,
the only decent thing he ever did in his life was to die without
making a will. I know he was in South America for years, and it
looks to me as if he'd managed to run up pretty badly against your
uncle. He probably played the old boy some dog's trick, and Señor de
Roda, being a gentleman of spirit, naturally determined to get level
with him. Unless I'm much mistaken, that's how it is that you come
to be sitting here at the present moment."
She nodded encouragingly.
"Now I begin to lose my bearings," I confessed. "How Manning shoved
himself in is a point that's been worrying me ever since I saw you
together outside 'The Laurels.' I made certain at first that he must
be working for your uncle, but when you told me that neither of you
had met him until you arrived in England I didn't know what on earth
to think. I've turned it over pretty thoroughly since then, and I've
come to the conclusion that there must be some secret about Greensea
which is distinctly worth knowing. It's my belief that Manning got
on to the track of it while he was staying on the island. He
probably discovered that you were mixed up with it too, and for
reasons of his own he decided to join forces. I've no doubt that
he's playing a double game, and I shouldn't wonder if you both shared
my opinion. It was probably a case of your having no choice in the
matter. When you found out how much he knew you had to take him into
partnership, whether you liked it or not."
Christine pushed the hair off her forehead, and looked at me with a
curious expression.
"It's really rather extraordinary," she said slowly. "If you were a
wizard or a fortune teller or something of that sort, you could
hardly have got nearer the truth."