‘Thanks for the permission,’ he said. ‘I will send you up some breakfast.’
He went to the saloon stairs and whistled, and a Negro boy appeared with a tray of chocolate. Nella took it, and, without the slightest hesitation, threw it overboard. Mr Jackson walked away a few steps and then returned.
‘You have spirit,’ he said, ‘and I admire spirit. It is a rare quality.’
She made no reply. ‘Why did you mix yourself up in my affairs at all?’ he went on. Again she made no reply, but the question set her thinking: why had she mixed herself up in this mysterious business? It was quite at variance with the usual methods of her gay and butterfly existence to meddle at all with serious things. Had she acted merely from a desire to see justice done and wickedness punished? Or was it the desire of adventure? Or was it, perhaps, the desire to be of service to His Serene Highness Prince Aribert? ‘It is no fault of mine that you are in this fix,’ Jules continued. ‘I didn’t bring you into it. You brought yourself into it. You and your father—you have been moving along at a pace which is rather too rapid.’
‘That remains to be seen,’ she put in coldly.
‘It does,’ he admitted. ‘And I repeat that I can’t help admiring you—that is, when you aren’t interfering with my private affairs. That is a proceeding which I have never tolerated from anyone—not even from a millionaire, nor even from a beautiful woman.’ He bowed. ‘I will tell you what I propose to do. I propose to escort you to a place of safety, and to keep you there till my operations are concluded, and the possibility of interference entirely removed. You spoke just now of murder. What a crude notion that was of yours! It is only the amateur who practises murder—’
‘What about Reginald Dimmock?’ she interjected quickly.
He paused gravely.
‘Reginald Dimmock,’ he repeated. ‘I had imagined his was a case of heart disease. Let me send you up some more chocolate. I’m sure you’re hungry.’
‘I will starve before I touch your food,’ she said.