“But I must think of him; I can’t escape it. What do you mean by not right?”
“A screw loose somewhere. What they call a case of double personality, perhaps. It is the only way to reconcile what you told me about him and what we see.”
Clare’s glance was turned inward in the endeavour to solve the riddle of her own blind spot. She said slowly: “I have known him somewhere; I am sure of that. But he is strange to me. He makes my blood run cold. I cannot explain it.”
“Do not brood on it,” urged Stonor.
She transferred her thoughts to Stonor. “You look utterly worn out. Will you sleep now?”
“Yes. We won’t leave here until morning. My horse must have a good rest.”
“You’d wait for him, but not for yourself!”
“Tole ought to be along in the morning to help pack, and to guard the prisoner.”
Before Stonor had a chance to lie down, Imbrie called him. There was a propitiatory note in his voice.
The trooper went to him. “What do you want?” he asked sternly.