The Professor bustled out to order her in, saying that Basil was feverish; they had sent for the doctor.
Basil was on the sofa in his dressing-gown; he looked wan and lined, and he had one hand to his chest as if in pain.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "for what happened."
"Yes"—Gheena held her own hand to her throat because it hurt her—"yes, it was all my fault."
"But I simply had to shut you up," he said. "We were watching at the cave, and your torpedo-destroying in that little boat was spoiling everything. Of course, I never expected to find you swimming. Then you flashed that light, and the fellows we caught—they thought that it was Guinane's lamp and rowed right in to us; they fought. I told you not to poke round—but—but—they nearly caught you and took you away, and I've never said——"
Here Stafford's voice grew very weak. He sipped something out of a tumbler.
"You were watching in the cave to catch Germans? You haven't been spying? Haven't sold yourself for money?" Gheena's voice took a clearer note of sheer clear joy.
"Oh, look here!" said Stafford a little grumpily. "It hurts. I used to watch you and that Western woman. I've learnt a bit of lip language and it hurts, besides being ridiculous. Now do I look like a spy?"
To which Miss Freyne replied incoherently that he had understood they always looked like unspies—that was, no spies—and being young and nice-looking and so on—and she grew confused.
Stafford put his hand on hers for a moment.