A week passed, the second week was near its end, when a shadow was cast on the sunlight of Guy's happiness, and again the gloom was produced by a letter from Hora, forwarded to him from his chambers.
"We shall be home on the Monday," wrote the Commandatore. "Please come and see me on the Tuesday at latest, for I have now completed my plans, and nothing remains but to put them into execution. Again let me remind you to do your best to cultivate the Marven people, if the opportunity arises. Any knowledge you may acquire concerning them is likely to prove useful."
Guy took the letter with him into the open, where he tore it into tiny fragments and scattered them to the breeze. Cornelius Jessel from Guy's bedroom window watched the flying fragments longingly. So also did another man who, seated on the sea wall some hundred yards away, was just near enough to realise what Guy was doing. But neither Cornelius nor the stranger made any efforts to recover the fragments. Detective Inspector Kenly had no desire to call attention in so pointed a fashion to the fact that he was visiting Whitsea.
Guy was unaware of the dual observation, even as Jessel was unaware that his late landlord was so near to him. His action was merely prompted by an outbreak of anger at the despicable part he was expected to play. He did not at first remember that he had not told the Commandatore of his projected visit. His anger passed, for he thought that the expectation was founded on a misapprehension. But the reiteration of Hora's intention, his renewal of the belief that he, Guy, would be as ready as heretofore to participate in the carrying out of his plans warned Guy that he must no longer delay coming to an explanation with the Commandatore. Hora had named a date. That date would suit Guy as well as another. It would not be fair to his father to delay any longer.
Guy was unusually silent that morning, and when Meriel joined him she was surprised that he should be so preoccupied. She feared to rally him on the subject, for she suspected a reason for his preoccupation which she would not name to herself.
They went aboard the Witch about nine o'clock. There was a fair wind from the north, the tide had just begun to ebb and there was every promise of an ideal day. Gradually Guy's preoccupation melted away. It was impossible to remain preoccupied on a brilliant summer morning in Meriel's presence. By the time they had cast off their moorings he was chattering away freely as ever. Hora was forgotten for a while. He was remembered later.
"I must be going back to town on Tuesday," Guy said in reply to a suggestion of some proposed trip for the ensuing week.
"Going back to town," remarked Meriel. There was more than surprise, there was regret in her tone.
"I shall hate to do so," said Guy, "but I had a letter from my father this morning and he particularly wishes to see me."
Guy's voice had unconsciously hardened as he spoke. His brow was knitted and his lips were compressed. He looked up and he caught sight of a something in her eyes which chased away the frown.