“How much does she know?” Sir Alfred asked.
“Everything,” Granet groaned. “It was she who had told me of the waterway across the marshes. She saw me there with Collins, just before the flare was lit. She knew that I lied to them when they found me.”
Sir Alfred sighed.
“It’s a big price, Ronnie,” he said, “but you’ll have to pay it. The sooner you marry the girl and close her mouth, the better.”
“If it hadn’t been for that damned fellow Thomson,” Granet muttered, “there would never have been a suspicion.”
“If it hadn’t been for the same very enterprising gentleman,” Sir Alfred observed, “my correspondence would never have been tampered with.”
Granet leaned a little forward.
“Thomson is our one remaining danger,” he said. “I have had the feeling since first he half recognised me. We met, you know, in Belgium. It was just when I was coming out of the German lines. Somehow or other he must have been on my track ever since. I took no notice of it. I thought it was simply because—because he was engaged to Geraldine Conyers.”
“You are rivals in love, too, eh?” Sir Alfred remarked.
“Geraldine Conyers is the girl I want to marry,” Granet admitted.