Dominey was watching the dust from the two cars which were disappearing down the avenue.
“Tell me, Eddy,” he asked, “there's one thing I have always been curious about. How did you manage to keep that fellow Wolff when there wasn't a war on, and he wasn't breaking the law?”
The young man grinned.
“We had to stretch a point there, old dear,” he admitted. “Plans of a fortress, eh?”
“Do you mean to say that he had plans of a fortress upon him?” Dominey asked.
“Picture post-card of Norwich Castle,” the young man confided, “but keep it dark. Can I have a drink before I get the little car going?”
The turmoil of the day was over, and Dominey, after one silent but passionate outburst of thankfulness at the passing from his life of this unnatural restraint, found all his thoughts absorbed by the struggle which was being fought out in the bedchamber above. The old doctor came down and joined him at dinner time. He met Dominey's eager glance with a little nod.
“She's doing all right,” he declared.
“No fever or anything?”
“Bless you, no! She's as near as possible in perfect health physically. A different woman from what she was this time last year, I can tell you. When she wakes up, she'll either be herself again, without a single illusion of any sort, or—”