Guest glanced at Sir Mark and met his eyes.
“Quite the gentleman, our friend Dale,” continued the officer. “Schoolmaster once, I found. Speaks languages, plays, and sings. Great yachting man. Deceive anybody; but his game’s up now. Couldn’t live in England as it was. Where did he say he was going—West Indies, sir?”
Guest nodded.
“Well, he was going on farther south. He had taken tickets for the River Plate.”
Sir Mark started violently.
There was silence for a few moments, and Guest’s resentment against Myra died out as he thought of the poor girl in the power of a scoundrel thousands of miles from home.
“Lady has money, I suppose?” whispered the officer from behind his hand.
Guest gave a short, sharp nod, and then felt annoyed with himself, but the officer took no heed and went on:
“Of course she would have, sir. Well, my gentleman will not be able to touch that, and I suppose there will be no difficulty about getting a divorce.”
At those words a flood of thought flashed through Guest’s brain, and he recalled conversations held with Edie respecting the marriage, and the girl’s boldly expressed belief that her cousin would gladly have drawn back but for her promise and her pride.