"I am sure he will. I can almost pledge my word on it. Marcus
would do anything to serve me. Oh, set your mind at rest. Consider
the thing done. Keep Dick safely hidden for a week or so until the
Telemachus is ready to sail - he mustn't go on board until the last
moment, for several reasons - and I will see to the rest."
Under that confident promise her troubles fell from her, as lightly
as they ever did.
"You are very good to me, Ned. Forgive me what I said just now.
And I think I understand about Terence - poor dear old Terence."
"Of course you do." Moved to comfort her as he might have been
moved to comfort a child, he flung his arm along the seat behind
her, and patted her shoulder soothingly. "I knew you would
understand. And not a word to Terence, not a word that could so
much as awaken his suspicions. Remember that."
"Oh, I shall."
Fell a step upon the patch behind them crunching the gravel.
Captain Tremayne, his arm still along the back of the seat, and
seeming to envelop her ladyship, looked over her shoulder. A tall
figure was advancing briskly. He recognised it even in the gloom
by its height and gait and swing for O'Moy's.
"Why, here is Terence," he said easily - so easily, with such frank
and obvious honesty of welcome, that the anger in which O'Moy came
wrapped fell from him on the instant, to be replaced by shame.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149