"Yes." Andrew flushed but looked at his friend with steady eyes. "I got very savage about the matter, and wondered whether I'd been in any way to blame. Still, you left things pretty mixed when you went away—your wife needed somebody to straighten them out, and I'm not a tactful person."
"I'd only a day or two's notice, and there wasn't time to arrange matters properly. But it's hard to imagine that people who knew you could be such credulous fools. I mustn't say anything stronger of your relatives."
"I don't think being my relatives makes them any brighter," Andrew replied with a grin. "My father was the last genius in the family; talent often skips a generation. But we'll let the matter drop."
"If you find gratitude hard to put up with. It seems that your sister Hilda has told Clare something about your adventures. You had some rough experiences in Canada?"
"One or two. I shouldn't imagine they were uncommon in West Africa."
"You're right," returned Olcott grimly. "We must have a long talk; but here's the clergyman coming in search of you and he looks as if he had something important to say."
He withdrew and Robert Allinson sat down with a confused but resolute air.
"Andrew," he said, "I have come to express my regret at having wronged you by suspicions which I am now ashamed of."
"After all, perhaps you had some excuse. I wasn't as careful as I should have been; but I'm getting tired of the subject."
"It's painful, but I must go on. I knew what a mistake I had made as soon as I saw Olcott come in; but you don't understand yet how far my suspicions led me. I felt it my duty to see Judson about Mrs. Olcott's lease."