I strike out at once (a) and (e), for in the case of (e) she knows well
that I would provide for her, and (a) I refuse to admit, (b) is hardly
credible--I eliminate that. I am left with (c) and (d) which might be
the same thing. But what hold can he have on her; she can't have a
past, she is too young and sweet for that.
I must find out about this before I go to sea again.
* * * * *
Three days ago, I was racking my brains for the solution of a problem,
and, as I see from what I wrote, I was somewhat outside myself. In the
interval things have taken an amazing turn. I am still bewildered--but
I must put it all down from the beginning.
The Colonel left as she said he would, and I went round to lunch with
her.
We had a delightful _tete-a-tete_, and after lunch she played the
piano. I was feeling in splendid voice and she accompanied me to
perfection in Tchaikowsky's "To the Forest," always a favourite of
mine. As the last chords died away, Zoe jumped up from the piano and,
with eyes dancing with excitement, placed her hands on my shoulders and
exclaimed:
"Karl! I have an idea! I shall make a prisoner of you for two or three
days."
I laughed heartily and almost told her that she had already made me a
prisoner for life, only I can never get those sort of remarks out quick
enough.
But when she said, "No! I am not joking, I mean it," I felt there was
more meaning in her sentence than I had at first thought. I begged to
be enlightened, and she then unfolded her scheme.
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