"I hate him," she answered coolly. "He is one of those creatures whose eyes and mouth, and something underneath his most respectful words, seem always to suggest offensive things. I find it very hard indeed to be civil to him."
"Do you happen to know what Colonel Ray thinks of him?" I asked her.
"I have no special knowledge of Colonel Ray's likes or dislikes," she answered.
"Forgive me," I said. "I thought that you and he were very intimate, and that you might know. I wonder whether he takes the Prince seriously."
"Colonel Ray is one of my best friends," she said, "but I am not in his confidence."
A slight reserve had crept into her tone. I stole a glance at her face; paler and more delicate than ever it seemed in the gathering darkness. Her lips were firmly set, but her eyes were kind. A sudden desire for her sympathy weakened me.
"Lady Angela," I said, "I must talk to some one. I do not know whom to trust. I do not know who is honest. You are the only person whom I dare speak to at all."
She looked round cautiously. We were out of the plantation now, in the open park, where eavesdropping was impossible.
"You have a difficult post, Mr. Ducaine," she said, "and you will remember—"
"Oh, I remember," I interrupted. "You warned me not to take' it. But think in what a position I was. I had no career, I was penniless. How could I throw away such a chance?"