“That,” he said, passing a hand over his brow, “is the one man we have really wronged throughout this very painful transaction.”
I thought of my poor friend Brogden, but I did not remind the bishop of him.
I had dreaded the interview with the police, but now that it was over, now that we seemed to have achieved our purpose, I felt none of the elation of complete relief. The sergeant’s confidence in his ability “to make a ring round Jakoub” alarmed me, and I knew that I should have no sense of security until we heard from Welfare of his safety, until, in fact, Jakoub was out of the country, and I could believe that the hunt for him was at an end.
We formed a gloomy trio, disinclined to talk, yet unwilling to separate and retire to bed. I do not think my conscience was uneasy, but to the strongest mind I suppose there must be something strangely upsetting in finding oneself opposed to law and the commonly accepted standards of conduct.
I am sure I was not the only member of the party who felt this influence.
We continued for a long time in desultory talk with intervals of embarrassed silence.
It was after such a pause that my restlessness got the better of me, and going to the window I drew aside the curtains.
The full moon was high in the heavens approaching the meridian. It still rode in a clear sky, though to my surprise I saw a great bank of cloud towering swiftly upwards from the west, though the sun had set without any sign of an end to the long spell of summer drought we had experienced.
“It looks as if the weather is going to break,” I remarked, still looking out.
I heard Edmund rise and tap the aneroid on the mantelpiece.