“Very much indeed. In fact, so far as I know, he has only looked seriously at one other woman since, and she too has come under the shadow of a tragedy. We are not a fortunate family, Miss Endacott.”
“That may come,” she ventured reassuringly. “The treasure of the Image may materialise after all. Somehow or other, I believe that it will.”
“My dear,” he said, “it is a very fantastic story for a simple-minded man to believe, but if there’s truth in it—if there should be truth in it, then I must confess that I am moved by the same spirit which prompted my brother to conceive the expedition and Gregory to risk his life in carrying it out. If the jewels are there, no superstition, no confused sense of morality, no fear even of being branded as a wrong-doer, would stop me for one moment from taking them. In this matter I sympathise with the more bellicose side of my family.”
There was something almost threatening in his words. His eyes were held by an approaching figure. She looked towards the ring-fence which bordered the park. Mr. Endacott had just passed through a little gate and was advancing towards them. In his rather sombre attire and drooping black felt hat, he presented a strange appearance; an appearance half grotesque, half sinister. With expressionless face, he shook hands with Sir Bertram, who came forward to meet him. Although the sun was still very powerful, his cheeks were colourless, he showed no sign of unusual warmth.
“I regret my tardiness,” he said, in reply to some polite speech from his host. “I became absorbed in some work. I failed to notice the hour.”
Sir Bertram led him away to be introduced to his sister. Claire was suddenly aware that her companion had lapsed into speechlessness. His eyes had followed the newcomer’s every movement. They were fixed upon him now in a curious, set gaze. There was an expression in his eyes and about his mouth, which, for a moment, made her shiver.
“Mr. Ballaston!” she exclaimed.
He did not appear to hear her. Instead, he seemed to be muttering something to himself. She saw his lips move but heard no sound.
“Mr. Ballaston!” she repeated.
He was himself again. He rose to his feet.