"I want to look up a Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, a young artist and his wife. He was pointed out to me at appel. They were at Brussels on their wedding tour, when the arrest took place, and it seems to be a serious matter with them. Mr. Kinsland asked me to call."
"Are you going to help the Curtises?"
"That is as may be. I wish to find out how matters are with them. And I am taking you because, if you can keep Mrs. Curtis's attention engaged, it will give me a chance of a few words with her husband. You see, Roy, I'm treating you as my friend." Roy's glance showed full comprehension.
Mr. Curtis proved to be a gentlemanly young fellow, with a keen clever face, much overshadowed by present care. His wife, hardly more than a child in age, was kittenlike in small plump prettiness.
"O it is quite dreadful!" she said, fraternising at once with Roy. Having six brothers of her own, she was much at home with boys in general. "We were to have gone back the very next week, and everybody said there could be no need to hurry. And we were so enjoying ourselves—you know," with a blush. "Then that terrible order came, that we were to count ourselves prisoners. At least my husband was to be a prisoner, and, of course, that meant the same for me. And our dear little house, where we meant to be so happy, has been waiting for us ever since, empty. And Hugh's studio, and the picture he had in hand, which was to have been finished this autumn! He," lowering her voice, and speaking with childish unreserve, "was to have had a hundred pounds for it. Now everything is at a standstill. But you are in the same trouble too. I mustn't be selfish, and think only of ourselves."
She stole a glance across at Ivor, who was speaking in an undertone to her husband.
"It is so good of Captain Ivor to call. Mr. Kinsland, the clergyman, said he would ask him to come, but we never dreamt of seeing him so soon. We feel strange here, you know, and it is a help to see any one come in." Mrs. Curtis dropped her voice afresh. "What a pleasant-looking man he is; and so soldierly! Mr. Kinsland said he had never seen a handsomer face, and I don't think I ever did either. It is such a kind face, too. Mr. Kinsland said you were desperately fond of him."
Roy laughed. It was not his fashion to talk of being "fond" of people. "Den's just the best fellow that ever lived!" he declared—his usual formula. "And I suppose you got here before we did?"
"Only three days ago. We had to come to these rooms. Not very home-like, are they? but the landlady is nice. And nothing else would matter much, if only Hugh could get back to his work. It makes him so depressed not to be able, poor fellow. Men are very soon depressed—don't you think so?"
Roy said "No" promptly, and then remembered Denham on the preceding evening, but he did not take back the monosyllable. He exerted himself to keep her talking, and he also did his utmost not to see or hear, yet he could not help being aware of a suspicious little movement of Denham's hand, and then of a startled "No, no! How can I? From a stranger!"