“No,” said Stratton in a hoarse whisper.
“Then how came you here?”
“I—Heaven only knows!” said Stratton. “It is beyond me.”
Guest looked at him curiously, as if he doubted his word.
“We only came to-day. Had to stop at place after place; Myra is so weak and ill.”
Stratton groaned.
“Yes,” said Guest; “that’s better. Now look here. You and I will start off at daybreak for home. It’s hard on me, but it must be done.”
“Yes. I saw you two—on the sands to-night. I was not sure. But tell me, where are they staying?”
“At a little château-like place on the cliff; they got it through a woman they knew at Saint Malo a couple or three years ago. She was servant there. She is nurse now to an invalid gentleman staying at a cottage just below.”
Stratton stood gazing at his friend as if he had been turned to stone.