Merriman shook his head and groaned.
“I know you’re right,” he admitted to the other’s amazement. “I saw—I didn’t mean to tell you, but now I may as well. That first evening, when we went up to call, you probably don’t remember, but after he had learned who we were he turned round to pull up a chair. He looked at you; I saw his face in a mirror. Hilliard, it was the face of a—I was going to say, a devil—with hate and fear. But the look passed instantly. When he turned round he was smiling. It was so quick I half thought I was mistaken. But I know I wasn’t.”
“I saw fear on his face when he recognized you that same evening,” Hilliard replied. “We needn’t blink at it, Merriman. Whether willingly or unwillingly, Mr. Coburn’s in the thing. That’s as certain as that we’re here.”
“But what is it? Have you any theory?”
“No, not really. There was that one of brandy smuggling that I mentioned before. I suggest it because I can suggest nothing else, but I admit I saw no evidence of it.”
Merriman was silent for several minutes as the boat slid over the smooth water. Then with a change of manner he turned once more to his friend.
“I suppose we couldn’t leave it alone? Is it our business after all?”
“If we don’t act we become accessories, and besides we leave that girl to fight her own battles.”
Merriman clenched his fists and once more silence reigned. Presently he spoke again:
“You had something in your mind?”