Speaking as lightly as I could, I said:
"Well! That's that. D'you think you've had enough questions answered for one day, Captain Holiday?"
"'Dick' is my name really," he observed for the second time that day; "and I'd like to ask one other question, if I may. Don't imagine that I don't know it's neck my asking. I do know better. But I'm going to ask. Do you——"
Even he hesitated for a moment. Then went on:
"Do you hear from—these people?"
"These people in Salonika?"
"Yes. From him," said Captain Holiday.
There flashed into my head the thought that had I been Muriel I should have replied neither "Yes" nor "No" to this question. It's the successful type of girl who always "keeps a man guessing" about everything she does, or means, or is. But I was cursed from my cradle by the fairies with the quality of truthfulness. Out it came now.
"Write to me! No," I replied definitely. "Not a line! Not a word! I shall never hear from him again. I shall probably never see him again as long as I live!"
And to avoid being asked more questions on this sore subject, I looked meaningly at Captain Holiday's hand holding the latch of the back door. At once he opened it.