“One can always rely on you! You’re just like George was in many ways. It’s curious that whenever I’m in trouble I think of him—”
She seemed on the verge of another breakdown, and she laid her hand in his for a moment before she went from him hurriedly with a low, “Good night!”
Lisle strolled back to the river and lighted his pipe. He had noticed and thought it significant that she spoke more of the brother whom she had lost several years ago than of the lover who had perished recently; but, from whatever cause it sprung, her distress troubled him.
His thoughts were presently interrupted by Nasmyth.
“There’s a thing I’d better tell you, Vernon,” he said, sitting down near by. “The night you were half drowned I emptied the cache and, without making any note of what was in it, pitched everything into the river.”
“So I discovered. At least, when I managed with some trouble to reach the place, I knew it was either you or Gladwyne, and I blamed you.”
“I’ve decided,” Lisle said gravely, “that you did quite right. It’s the end of that story.”
“Then you have abandoned the purpose you had in view?”
“I’ve been thinking hard, and it seems to me that if Vernon were with me now, the last thing that would please him would be to see the two women suffer; he was a big man in every way. There’s another thing—he left no relations to consider.”