"She called herself Cara; but the name tells me nothing. Who is she? I agree with you as to her address and appearance: she is in every respect—er—presentable. A relative, may I inquire?"
"No."
"A friend, then? You will pardon me? A delicate question to put, of course."
Again the Commandant's eyebrows went up slightly. "She was my guest for a day or two," he answered.
"Was? Then where in the world is she staying now?"
"If she did not tell you—" began the Commandant, but Sir Cæsar interrupted him impatiently.
"Tell me? Devil a bit of it, and that's partly why I'm here. Vanished like a witch, begad, while I was turning to ring the bell! And where she went or where she came from are mysteries alike to me."
"Why, then," the Commandant pursued, in a steady musing voice, "it seems to follow that, even if I knew, I have not her permission to tell."
The Lord Proprietor uncrossed and recrossed his legs irritably. "Come, come, Vigoureux, this will hardly do. Will it, now? I put it to you as a man of the world. No doubt it's all innocent enough, but folks will talk. And, after all, I'm responsible for any—er—scandal affecting the Islands. Hey?"
The Commandant rose with a sudden flush on his face.