"You talk, please," said she. "I will do the rest." (Pert thing.) However, I took her at her word, and did what I had to do, with neatness and dispatch, as an executioner should. But the odd part was, that when I had chopped off her head with the axe you sharpened for me and posted from Scotland, registered and expressed, she hardly seemed to know it was off. She did look a little pale, though that might have been the effect of the strange light, but she thanked me pleasantly for telling her the truth, and said she quite appreciated my motive.
"I was prompted entirely by my interest in you, and because of my nephew's friendship," I said.
"Oh, yes," said she, in a voice like cream. "What else could it be?"
"It could be nothing else," I replied emphatically. "I'm sure I hated distressing you, but it was that good might come. I do hope it hasn't upset you too much?"
"No, not too much," said she. "But it has made me horribly—hungry!"
Really, that did stagger me! I must confess I can't tell what to make of the girl. Anyhow, she knows, which is the principal thing, and no matter how remarkable an actress she may be for her age, she must care. It wouldn't be human not to care for such a story about her own mother and father. Yet she took it so impersonally! I can't get over that. And she actually ate a good luncheon! I wonder she could swallow. But, of course, I'd put everything as politely as I could put such things, because I didn't want her to scream or faint. Well, I needn't have worried!
We had lunch at an inn near Cox's Cavern, with two cascades in the back garden, which is shut in by quite a private and special gorge of its own. I watched the girl as much as I dared, but she looked about as usual so far as I could make out. The only noticeable effect of our conversation was that she seemed somewhat suppressed, sat silent and thoughtful, and attempted no sallies.
Dozens of motors arrived while we were eating, gorgeous cars with resplendent chauffeurs, but there wasn't one to put the bonnet of "Apollo" (as someone has named ours) out of joint; and not one chauffeur as striking as our extraordinary Bengali in his native dress.
I forgot to mention that I bound Ellaline to secrecy before I began my tale, saying that I'd had the information in confidence. She has her faults, but I don't think she'd break her word. She is one of those tall, upstanding, head-in-the-air creatures who pride themselves on keeping a promise till it's mouldy.
My headache was better, after relieving my mind, and I enjoyed the run to Clifton and Bristol. We had to go through the queer old gray village of Cheddar, which was as cheesy looking as one would expect it to be; and I suppose the Market Cross we passed must have been good, as Sir Lionel would stop and take a photograph. As we turned out of the place for Axbridge, I threw a glance over my shoulder, back at the exit of the queer valley, and a carved bronze screen seemed already to have been drawn across it.