“He went off to talk to the girl, leaving me smoking a cigarette thoughtfully; for, try as I would, I could not rid my mind of the suspicion that there was something behind this suggestion of Morrison’s—something sinister. Fortunately, Jack would be under my eye—in my bungalow; but even so, I felt uneasy. Morrison had been too quiet for safety, bearing in mind what manner of man he was.
“We landed shortly after and I went round to the club. I didn’t see Morrison—he seemed to have disappeared shortly after his interview with Jack; but he had given the girl full directions as to how to get to the chaplain’s house. Jack took her there, and I’d arranged with him that he should come round after and join me.
“The first man I ran into was McAndrew—a leather-faced Scotsman from up my part of the country—who was down in Rangoon on business.
“ ‘Seen the bridegroom?’ he grunted as soon as he saw me.
“ ‘Travelled out with the bride,’ I said briefly, not over-anxious to discuss the matter.
“ ‘And what sort of a lassie is she?’ he asked curiously.
“ ‘Perfectly charming,’ I answered, ringing the bell for a waiter.
“ ‘Is that so?’ he said slowly, and our eyes met. ‘Man,’ he added still more slowly, ‘it should not be, it should not be. Poor lassie! Poor lassie!’
“And then Jack Manderby came in, and I introduced him to two or three other fellows. I’d arranged to go up country that evening—train to Mandalay, and ride from there the following morning—and Jack, of course, was coming with me. He had said good-bye to the girl; he wasn’t going to see her again before he went up country, and we spent the latter part of the afternoon pottering round Rangoon. And it was as we were strolling down one of the native bazaars that he suddenly caught my arm.
“ ‘Look—there’s Morrison!’ he muttered. ‘I distinctly saw his face peering out of that shop.’