“Why did you go in after him?” Nasmyth asked Batley. “You must have seen that you couldn’t save him.”
“That,” Batley answered with a curious smile, “is more than I can clearly tell you; and I might suggest that Lisle’s venture is even harder to understand. I don’t honestly think I owe Gladwyne anything; but, after all, we passed for friends, and I used to be fond of swimming. Of course, there’s a more obvious explanation—I’d lent him a good deal of money and from what I’ve learned since, I may have some difficulty in enforcing my claim on the estate. It was natural that I should make an effort to recover the debt.”
Nasmyth did not think that the man had been most strongly influenced by that desire, but he addressed Crestwick:
“Hadn’t you better gather some more branches or driftwood for the fire, Jim?”
Crestwick disappeared, and Nasmyth filled his pipe before he turned to Batley.
“Now,” he said, “I don’t want to be offensive; but there are two people connected with this affair who must be spared any unnecessary suffering. That’s a fact you had better recognize.”
“I hardly think you do me justice,” returned Batley, looking amused. “It’s perfectly plain that there’s a mystery behind these recent events; one that has some relation to George Gladwyne’s death. Your idea is that an unscrupulous person of my description might find some profit in probing it?”
“You’ll never learn the truth. I’ve seen to that.”
“The fact is, I don’t mean to try.”
Nasmyth was a little astonished at finding himself ready to believe this.