“I’m interested in geology as well as bugs, you know. I’m afraid you’d find it rather a dull subject, but it amuses me. And I’m very interested in my fellow-men.”
Before she realised what she was doing, she had asked his opinion of Simon Templar.
“Templar? A very interesting specimen. I don’t think I can make a pronouncement yet—I met him for the first time to-day. A very—er—unusual young man, but quite charming to talk to.” Carn did not seem to wish to continue the analysis, and she was left with the idea that he would prefer to be sure of her estimate of the Saint before committing himself. “Would you like some tea? Or some ginger-beer? It’s all I’ve got in the house.”
“No, thanks, if you don’t mind.” She thought. “It’s rather difficult. . . . You see—— Is Mr. Templar in any danger?”
Carn looked at her with a keenness that was unforeseen in a man of his type.
“What makes you ask that, Miss Holm?”
“Well, he talks a lot about it, doesn’t he?”
Carn pursed his lips.
“Yes, he does,” he admitted guardedly. “I shouldn’t venture to give a definite opinion at this stage. Might one enquire, first, what Mr. Templar is to you? Is he a particular friend of yours, for instance?”
“I’ve known him such a short time,” she replied, as cautiously. “But I must say I like him very much.”