An hour before sunset, she came out onto the veranda, dressed in slacks and jacket.
“I am going down to the village — I’ll be back soon,” she told Farris.
She was a poor liar. Farris got to his feet. “You’re going after your brother. Where is he?”
Distress and doubt struggled in her face. She remained silent.
“Believe me, I want to be a friend,” Farris said quietly. “Your brother is mixed up in something here, isn’t he?”
She nodded, white-faced. “It’s why he wouldn’t go back to France with me. He can’t bring himself to leave. It’s like a horrible fascinating vice.”
“What is?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. Please wait here.”
He watched her leave, and then realized she was not going down the slope but up it — up toward the top of the forested plateau.
He caught up to her in quick strides. “You can’t go up into that forest alone, in a blind search for him.”