"I am handicapped," I pointed out, "by drunken habits, a beard, and Mother Beagle's Beautiful Black Dye. No, Jack, I do not see orange blossom this trip."
"Apart from these romantic dreams," persisted my cousin, "she is far more likely to be inquisitive about you if you never go near the house. In fact I could see it in her eye to-day."
"Well," I said, "I'll call to-morrow and dispel her interest in me."
Since my talk with the doctor, his theory about Jean Rendall had crossed my mind occasionally, and improbable as it was, I thought I might as well test it.
"By the way," I asked, "did you by any chance ever speak to Miss Rendall about my last visit to the island?"
His look of surprise was a sufficient answer in itself.
"Speak to her of your adventure? Not a word at any time! Why?"
"The doctor has an idea that she knows more than she says, and that you may have told her something."
"Rubbish!"
"I knew it was," I assured him.