“Why?” John Bruce asked.
“Because I promised,” Claire said slowly.
“But a promise like that!” John Bruce burst out. “A promise that you will regret all your life is——”
“No!” Her face was half averted; her head was lowered to hide the tears that suddenly welled into her eyes. “No; it is a promise that I—that I am glad now I made.”
“Glad!” John Bruce sat upright. She had turned her head away from the cot. He could not see her face. “Glad!” he repeated incredulously.
“Yes.” Her voice was scarcely audible.
For a moment John Bruce stared at her; then a bitter smile tightened his lips, and he lay back on the cot, and turned on his side away from both Claire and Paul Veniza.
When John Bruce looked around again, only Paul Veniza was in the room.
“I don't understand,” said Paul Veniza—he was still ruffling his hair, still with his eyes on the floor.
“I do,” said John Bruce grimly. “Claire is right. It isn't safe for me to stay here, and I'll go to-night. If only Hawkins hadn't——” He laughed a little harshly. “But I'll go to-night, just the same. A taxi will do quite as well.”