"I'm sorry I can't tell you anything now," Andrew replied, with an embarrassed air. "I may be able to do so when I come back."
She gave him her hand with a gentle look.
"Then I must wait. But you won't be rash. Remember that I shall be anxious about you!"
He left her and for a while she sat quietly in the hall. Andrew was not going on a shooting cruise; it was some more serious business. She had already connected it with Rankine and the sinking of the merchant ships. The reasons that led her to this conclusion were not very clear, but she felt that Williamson and the man with the red mustache had something to do with the matter. She wondered whether she ought to warn Andrew; but she felt that she could not betray her uncle unless she was certain that Andrew was in danger.
She roused herself when she heard the car outside. Madge Whitney was coming to spend a week with them. Shortly after Madge's arrival, Dick returned from Dumfries, looking ill; and when the party gathered in the drawing-room after dinner, conversation dragged. It was a relief when Mrs. Woodhouse suggested that they go to bed. Elsie went with Madge to her room, and they sat together on a low divan before the fire.
"Now," Madge said, "what's the matter with you all?"
"I don't know," said Elsie. "I don't feel very gay; but you didn't cheer us much. I'm sorry your head aches."
"The trip was pretty bad. But I had a little adventure."
Madge smiled charmingly.
"What?" Elsie asked indifferently.