He turned back to Mrs. Adair.
"I am no casuist," he said. "But here disloyalty seems the truest
loyalty of all. Tell me what you know, Mrs. Adair. Something might be
done perhaps for Feversham. From Assouan or Suakin something might be
done. This news--this good news came, I suppose, this afternoon when I
was at home."
"No, this morning when you were here. It was brought by a Captain
Willoughby, who was once an officer in Mr. Feversham's regiment."
"He is now Deputy-Governor of Suakin," said Durrance. "I know the man.
For three years we were together in that town. Well?"
"He sailed down from Kingsbridge. You and Ethne were walking across the
lawn when he landed from the creek. Ethne left you and went forward to
meet him. I saw them meet, because I happened to be looking out of this
window at the moment."
"Yes, Ethne went forward. There was a stranger whom she did not know. I
remember."
"They spoke for a few moments, and then Ethne led him towards the trees,
at once, without looking back--as though she had forgotten," said Mrs.
Adair. That little stab she had not been able to deny herself, but it
evoked no sign of pain.
"As though she had forgotten me, you mean," said Durrance, quietly
completing her sentence.
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