"A motor bicycle!" she cried. "I believe it is Arthur. It sounds just like his machine."
Arthur it was, white with dust and breathless. His first greeting was for Isobel, who welcomed him with both hands outstretched and a delight which she made no effort to conceal, overwhelming him with questions, frankly joyful at his coming. Mabane and I stood silent in the background, and we avoided each other's eyes. It was at that moment, perhaps, that I for the first time realized the tragedy into which we were slowly drifting. Isobel had forgotten us. She was wholly absorbed in her joy at Arthur's unexpected appearance. The thing which in my quieter moments had begun already vaguely to trouble me—a thing of slow and painful growth—assumed for the first time a certain definiteness. I looked a little way into the future, and it seemed to me that there were evil times coming.
Arthur approached us presently with outstretched hand. His manner was half apologetic, half triumphant. He seemed to be saying to himself that Isobel's reception of him must surely have opened our eyes.
"Your coming, I suppose, Arthur," Mabane said quietly, "signifies——"
"That I accept your terms for the present," Arthur answered, in a low tone. "I had to see you. There are strangers continually watching our diggings, and making inquiries about Isobel. There are things happening which I cannot understand at all."
I glanced towards Isobel.
"We will talk about it after she has gone to bed," I said. "Come in and have some supper now."
He drew me a little on one side.
"You remember the chap who was with the Archduchess at the Mordaunt Rooms?"
"Yes!"