'Edgecumbe, I feel I owe you an apology. It was only after I had left
Devonshire that I fully realized what you had done for me. But for you,
I should be a dead man, and I want to thank you. I am not much given to
sentiment, I am not built that way, but believe me I am not ungrateful.
At the risk of your own life you saved mine, and I feel it deeply.'
He spoke so earnestly, and there was such a ring of sincerity in his voice, that I felt ashamed of myself for thinking of him suspiciously. Still I could not forget the conversation which took place between him and St. Mabyn months ago, neither could I rid my mind of what had taken place since.
'If I can be of any service to you,' he continued, 'I should like to be,—I should really. I happen to know your colonel, and I'd like to see more of you. If you will let me know how you are fixed, I will look you up. You haven't any friends in London, have you?'
'No,' replied Edgecumbe; 'no one excepting Luscombe.'
'And you don't know London?'
'I am afraid not. I have no memory of it, anyhow.'
'Then let me show you around. I could introduce you to a lot of men, too. You see, as an old Army man, I know the ropes.'
'It's awfully good of you, Springfield,' I said; 'but really I don't think Edgecumbe is your sort, and it would be a shame to bother you.'
I felt awkward in saying this, because I spoke as though I were Edgecumbe's guardian. To my surprise, however, Edgecumbe eagerly accepted Springfield's offer.
'I'll let you know when I am free,' he said, 'and then, as you say, you can introduce me to some of the sights of London. But we must be off now, Luscombe, I have some things to do.'