"There is nothing to know," she said sharply, and Thresk pointed at her throat.
"Nothing?"
Stella Ballantyne raised her hand to cover the blue marks.
"I—I fell and hurt myself," she stammered.
"It was he—Ballantyne."
"No," she cried and she drew herself erect. But Thresk would not accept the denial.
"He ill-treats you," he insisted. "He drinks and ill-treats you."
Stella shook her head.
"You asked questions in Bombay where we are known. You were not told that," she said confidently. There was only one person in Bombay who knew the truth and Jane Repton, she was very sure, would never have betrayed her.
"That's true," Thresk conceded. "But why? Because it's only here in camp that he lets himself go. He told us as much to-night. You were here at the table. You heard. He let his secret slip: no one to carry tales, no one to spy. In the towns he sets a guard upon himself. Yes, but he looks forward to the months of camp when there are no next-door neighbours."