Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, however, showed herself quite willing to make an ascent to the upper level. She was interested and delighted in everything she saw.
At the top of the cliff, with the short green turf underfoot, old Lieutenant-Commander Greaves met them, and saluted, and went to his eyrie, his glass-covered look-out with its great swivel telescope.
"What a delightful old naval officer!"
"He is," returned Parkson, "and as keen as mustard."
His companion put a few deft questions; it was as though she put out invisible tentacles, groping for matter that could be valuable.
Before they reached the confines of the fort Parkson led her to the cliff edge, to the exact spot wherefrom Manton had looked down upon Sims busy upon the sands. Far below them lay the quiet little bay—there was scarcely a ripple upon the blue sunlit water, and the waves rolled and fell languidly with a musical cadence.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth seated herself beside Parkson and admired the view. She was clever enough not to force the pace; he was already entangled in her meshes, but he was not yet completely helpless. Aforetime she had conquered and wrought the undoing of men far subtler than Parkson.
"What a lovely, lovely bay, Mr. Parkson!"
Parkson admitted the beauty of the bay. He told her that it was within the area of the fort, and that it was not accessible to the public, and that there was only one way of approaching it by a narrow path descending the chalk cliff. Then quite insidiously and with incredible dexterity she led him round to talk of Sims. Months later, when Parkson recalled that conversation, he was totally unable to account for the manner in which she had achieved a return to this subject. Sims, the lank, cadaverous and bead-eyed Sims—who was really Steinbaum and a German spy—what had this man to do with the beauty and splendour of the sunlit evening? Why should his existence interest the tragically bereaved young widow, the society woman, who Parkson truly believed had fallen in love with himself? "Heart taken at the rebound," the young man quoted in fatuous gratification. He felt delighted to think that old Greaves had seen him in company of this lovely widow. He wanted the ancient naval officer to think him a dog, and when he and Mrs. Beecher Monmouth rose and passed between attentive sentries out of the fort into the downs, Parkson helped the lovely widow up certain steps, out through certain areas of barbed wire, by taking her arm in his. He wondered if old Greaves, in his glass look-out, was watching them—old Greaves saw pretty much everything that went on in the upper fort. But on this occasion it was not Greaves, but Captain Sinclair who watched him—watched every movement they made from Greaves' glass-encompassed tower.
"What do you think of that friend of Parkson's, Commander?" asked Sinclair, as Parkson and his guest passed finally out of the fort.