“Is it Ernest William, or William Ernest?” asked Stonor mockingly.
“I shan’t tell you. I shan’t tell you anything about myself until I know what I’m wanted for. I suppose that’s my right, isn’t it?”
“Sure!” said Stonor good-naturedly. “Anything you like. Travellers must be saying something to each other.”
But Imbrie was not content to let the matter drop. There was a little gnawing anxiety somewhere. He burst out: “And have I got to put myself to the trouble of taking this long journey, just because you’re too thick-witted to understand my perfectly natural motives?”
“Put it that way if you like,” said Stonor, grinning. “The police are thick sometimes in dealing with clever fellows like you.”
“Well, I’ll tell you. I came up to this country because I choose to live alone. My reasons are my own affair. I’m not wanted by the police of this or any other country. But I don’t choose to be spied on and followed up. That’s why I got out of the way.”
“Did you live alone down there?” asked Stonor casually.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there was that lady who left Carcajou Point with you.”
“Oh, that was just a temporary affair,” said Imbrie, with a leer.