“Try to understand you! Why man alive I’ve been trying whilst you were speaking, until my brain reels. But I’m blamed if I can make head or tail of what you say. You seem to be snarled up in more knots than a conjuror. What the hell does it all mean? You don’t seem to be able to turn anywhere or do anything, even when the safety or the life of such a girl as Marjory Drake is in question. On my faith Mr. Hunter I hope I don’t make any mistake about you!”
“Yes, you do, Sam!” I said quietly, for I could not but feel that he had good cause for disappointment or even anger. “At the first moment I am free to do so, I shall tell you all I can; and you shall then see that I am only doing what you would under similar circumstances do yourself. Won’t you trust me, old friend!” He gazed at me steadily for a few seconds, and then his look softened.
“By God I will!” he said, as he held out his hand.
“Now tell me,” I said “what can I do to keep in touch with you. I must go back to Cruden in the morning. It is necessary.” This was in answer to his questioning look. “It is the first step in my doing as you wish.” I knew that Marjory would send to me, if at all, to Cruden. “But tell me how or where I can wire you in case we are not within hail.” For answer he pulled out of his pocket a bundle of “priority” telegrams addressed to the United States Embassy in London.
“Take them and use them as may be required. I am in constant touch with the Embassy and they will know where to find me. How will I find you?”
“Send to me care of Post-office, Cruden Bay,” I said, “I shall keep you advised of wherever I may be.” With that we said good night.
“I shall see you in the morning,” he said as he went out.