In his quick, unmasculine way Colonel Fielding seemed to read my thoughts.
He said: "She—Miss Muriel—has an eye to the main chance. She simply must have the things that people who've got ... er ... love can afford to do without. She covets that lovely old country-house that's been turned into a hospital. It'll be turned back some day. I really think she'd like to see herself mistress of it. Up to now I expect she's hit everything she's aimed for. But..."
He paused and smiled, a curious, encouraging smile, at me.
He went on: "I don't think——"
He paused again before he uttered the very last words that I expected to hear coming out of his mouth.
"I don't think she's going to get our friend ... er ... Richard Wynn."
"What?" I said, sharply. "Colonel Fielding, what made you say that?"
He opened his eyes at me. "Say what?"
"You said 'Richard Wynn.' What has he got to do with it?" I asked, stupefied. "Do you know him? Because I do, and I——"
"Know him?" The young man looked at me as if I'd gone mad. "Know Wynn? Holiday?"