"His difficulty is obvious," Benson remarked. "If you are blameless, his son must be guilty. I arrived at the former conclusion some time ago."
Blake, who did not answer, sat musing with a disturbed expression. There was now no sign of the others, who had left the ravine, and no sound reached the men from the plain above. Emile stood patiently waiting some distance off, and though they were sheltered from the wind it was bitterly cold.
"In some ways, it might be better if I went home at once," he said at last. "I could come back and join you as soon as I saw how things were going. The Colonel would be safe from any further persecution if I were with him, but, all the same, I'm inclined to stay away."
"Why?" Harding asked.
"For one thing, if I were there, he might insist on taking some quite unnecessary course that would only cause trouble."
"Now," said Harding curtly, "I'm going to give you my opinion. I take it that your uncle is a man who tries to do the square thing?"
Blake's face relaxed and his eyes twinkled. "He's what you call white and as obstinate as they're made. Convince him that a thing's right and he'll see it done, no matter how many people it makes uncomfortable. That's why I don't see my way to encourage him."
"Here's a man who's up against a point of honour; he has, I understand, a long, clean record and now he's prepared to take a course that may cost him dear. Are you going to play a low-down game on him; to twist the truth so's to give him a chance of deceiving himself?"
"Aren't you and Benson taking what you mean by the truth too much for granted?"
Harding gave him a searching look. "I haven't heard you deny it squarely; you're a poor liar. It's your clear duty to go back to England right away and see your uncle through with the thing he means to do."