“Oh, all right, I was forgetting. So-long, Colvin. We’ll have a great pow-pow by-and-by.”
They watched his retreating form.
“I think the mystery is for ever clear now, sweetheart,” said Colvin.
But Aletta could not speak. She could only press his arm in silence. All the agony she had suffered came back to her, as in a wave.
“I know what you are thinking, my darling one,” he went on softly. “But I don’t wonder you were taken in by the likeness. It is quite the most remarkable thing I ever saw.”
“Yet, I doubted you. You!”
“Love, think no more of that. Have you not really and truly drawn me out of the very jaws of death this morning? Ah! but our sky is indeed clear—dazzlingly clear now.”
“Tell me about this half-brother of yours, Colvin,” said Aletta presently. “Had you no idea he was in this country?”
“None whatever. For years we had lost sight of each other. The fact is, Aletta, I may as well tell you—though I wouldn’t anybody else—but the chap was rather a bad bargain—on two occasions, indeed, only escaped by the skin of his teeth from coming to mortal grief. I would even bet something he’ll come down on me to help him now, and if it’ll do him any good I will. But he may have improved by now. Some of us do with time, you know.”
It turned out even as Colvin had said. When Kenneth rejoined him for a little talk apart—after his interview with the Commandant—he spoke of his own affairs. He had been very much of a rolling stone, he explained, and now he wanted to settle down. He was going to turn over a new leaf entirely. Would Colvin help him a little?