It was close to five o'clock when we arrived home, and I found my belongings awaiting me. I was given the same room that I had previously occupied and, when I appeared at dinner at eight, I felt like a human being for the first time since I had entered Major Temple's door. I was glad to see that both the Major and his daughter were much rested, and we sat down to dinner with some show of cheerfulness, Miss Temple looking especially charming in a green silk evening gown which to my artist's eyes made her a picture that I longed to put on canvas. I told her so, and we were soon discussing pictures, and art generally, at a lively rate. Only the Major seemed depressed, and I imagine this came from his regret at the loss of the wonderful emerald Buddha. He did not refer to it in any way, but I was conscious of a far-away look in his eyes which spoke volumes. What had become of the jewel, I did not know, but I fancied that McQuade's hurried trip to London had something to do with the search his men were making for the lost underground temple of Buddha and thought it more than likely that I would know more about it when he returned the next day.
We passed an hour very pleasantly at table, and after dinner Major Temple excused himself upon the plea that he wanted to write some letters and retired to his den, while Miss Temple and I sat down before the fire in the library for our first real tête-à-tête. It had begun to rain heavily outside, with a stiff breeze blowing from the southwest, and it seemed wonderfully fine and warm and altogether delightful, sitting here in the firelight with the woman I loved beside me.
CHAPTER XII
I ASK MISS TEMPLE A QUESTION
"Miss Temple," I said, as we sat beside each other on the big leather-covered settle facing the fire, "I want to thank you with all my heart for going up to London to see me. I know why you went and can never tell you how deeply I appreciate it."
She looked at me with her bewitching smile, which somehow made me feel both delightfully happy and yet vaguely uncertain of myself. "I had to come, Mr. Morgan," she said. "As soon as I knew the police were fastening their suspicions upon you, I knew I should be obliged to tell what I had seen. Yet I felt horrified at the thought of accusing my father. I could not understand his being where I imagined I saw him. I knew his mad desire for the jewel and was filled with dismay at the thought that he would attempt to secure it by such means. Of course I had no thought then of Mr. Ashton's death. I ran to my room, threw off my wet clothes, and appeared in the hall just as your cries aroused the house. Li Min must have re-entered the house just after I retired to my room. I did not look into the hallway of the west wing. I avoided doing so purposely, as I did not wish to humiliate my father by letting him know that I had seen him on the roof. Of course I was deceived by the long coat and cap. My father is of about the same height as Li Min, and I had been so accustomed to seeing him in that particular coat and cap—he invariably wore them when walking about the grounds—that I felt no doubt whatever as to his identity. Had I found you in London, Mr. Morgan, I should have told you everything and been guided by your advice."
"I wish you had found me there," I said, "but, as it is, everything has turned out well. Only I am sorry that you should have had to undergo such a terrible experience."
"Oh, it wasn't so bad. They gave me a very comfortable room at the police station in London, and the matron was extremely kind. I might have enjoyed the experience thoroughly, had I not been so terribly worried about my father." The dark shadow which fell across her face reminded me forcibly of the suffering she had undergone. I hastened to change the subject.
"Sometime I hope to show you London and my studio under different circumstances," I said. "I've got a lot of interesting old things there that I've picked up. You must surely come."