So neither
life will be spoilt at all.'"
"I understand," said Sutch. "It's the way a man should speak. So till
Feversham comes back the pretence remains. She pretends to care for you,
you pretend you do not know she thinks of Harry. While I go eastwards to
bring him home, you go back to her."
"No," said Durrance, "I can't go back. The strain of keeping up the
pretence was telling too much on both of us. I go to Wiesbaden. An
oculist lives there who serves me for an excuse. I shall wait at
Wiesbaden until you bring Harry home."
Sutch opened the door, and the two men went out into the hall. The
servants had long since gone to bed. A couple of candlesticks stood upon
a table beside a lamp. More than once Lieutenant Sutch had forgotten
that his visitor was blind, and he forgot the fact again. He lighted
both candles and held out one to his companion. Durrance knew from the
noise of Sutch's movements what he was doing.
"I have no need of a candle," he said with a smile. The light fell full
upon his face, and Sutch suddenly remarked how tired it looked and old.
There were deep lines from the nostrils to the corners of the mouth, and
furrows in the cheeks.
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