The answer to this question was in the nature of an unqualified negative, and extended over half an hour. But Casey retained many of his scruples. He could not, he insisted, live on her money. If he went broke, as seemed likely, he must have time to get a fresh stake. Clyde waived this point, having some faith in Jim Hess. Of this, however, she said nothing to him.
"We had better go," she said at last. "It is quite dark. Kitty will wonder where we are."
"Shall you tell her? Better."
"Not to-night, anyway. She—you see——"
"She'd jolly you, you mean. Of course. But We may as well have it over."
"Not to-night," Clyde repeated. She was uncomfortably conscious of her confidences to Kitty Wade, made without much thought.
They approached the house from the rear, passing by the kitchen, whence issued the sound of voices.
"Let's take a peep at Feng's company?" Casey suggested.
The kitchen was built apart from the house, but attached to it by a covered way. Standing in the outer darkness, they could look in through the open window without risk of being seen, and were close enough to overhear every word.
Feng was resting from the labours of the day, sitting smoking on the kitchen table. Facing him, a pipe between his wrinkled lips, sat old Simon. His face was expressionless, but his eyes, black, watchful, were curiously alert.