"To tell what you meant to do and couldn't sounds pretty weak, but I had two objects when I came home," he said. "I wanted to help Dick and keep him out of trouble; but the proper kind of help needs tact, and I haven't much. Besides, there's something peculiarly elusive about Dick; you think you have him, so to speak, in a corner, and the next moment he slips away from you. Sometimes I suspect he's a good deal more clever than we imagine."
Elsie nodded.
"Yes; I know what you mean. But you're a very good friend of his and it wouldn't be like you to give him up."
"I don't mean to give him up; but just now it looks as if I could get no farther. That's the trouble."
"You mean part of it," said Elsie quietly. "What was your other object?"
Andrew hesitated.
"It was rather vague, but I thought I might somehow be useful—to the country. I'm lame and can't enlist; I can't give much money; but I might, perhaps, help to watch the coast. Then there was the Eskdale road. You know my hobby."
Elsie stopped her knitting and gave him a steady look.
"And after a time, you thought you saw a way to be of use. You found out something?"
"Yes," he said in a disturbed voice. "Still, it looked as if I couldn't go on with the thing. Some of the clues broke off and those I tried to follow led me into difficulties. You can't act on faint suspicion: it might lead to unnecessary complications."