That same evening after dinner, Weston and I walked back to Tarhaven with the brother and sister. The sky was clear, and the atmosphere was not too chilly: also we walked along the cliffs under a full wintry moon. Naturally Weston and the girl he loved were together, and seemed to be quarreling pretty freely. In fact, Dicky told me that night, when we walked back, that several times he had attempted to propose again, but that Mabel had always laughed at him, so that he could not get the words out. She teased him and tantalized him, and drew him on and I repulsed him like a true daughter of Eve, so that his cold, scientific blood--to put it picturesquely--began to warm. Perhaps this was what the young minx desired. At all events, Dicky Weston understood her after that walk to Tarhaven much better than he had ever understood her before, and began to think that there were other things in the world than airships.
Cannington and I walked behind, chatting and smoking. Mabel either had not found time to tell him of her discovery, or had thought it best to leave the explanation to me. At all events Cannington knew nothing, so, to be beforehand, I judged it well to relate what I knew.
"Boy," I said abruptly, when we had settled well into our swing, "I have something to tell you: something you should have known before. And would have known," I added emphatically, "had I not been bound to hold my tongue for a certain period."
"What are you talking about, Vance?" asked Cannington, turning a surprised and youthful face to mine.
"Listen, and don't get your hair off!" said I, then rapidly and clearly told him of my recognition of Marr as Monk: of the conversation I had enjoyed with him in the London chambers, and finally detailed how Mabel had seen the photograph in The Lodge drawing-room which had proved the two men to be one. The boy listened quietly enough, although once or twice I heard him swear under his breath. "Well," said I, when I had finished, "do you blame me?"
"No," he said promptly, "since you arranged that the man should drop Aunt Lucy's acquaintance, and should drop courting Mab, I don't blame you. But I wish you had told me when the fortnight was up."
"My dear boy, how could I? You were going to Italy, and it was useless to communicate the news by letter. Especially," I added, "when Monk went to America, and intends apparently to stop there."
"Yes, yes. I suppose you acted for the best. But what a beast!"
"Come, that's a trifle hard," I protested. "Monk has a legal right to the name of Marr and has plenty of money. He is not a bad match for Mabel."
"I never liked him," said Cannington truculently, "and I am glad Mabel did not listen to him."