"Far be it from me to cast up," said Drummond; "but I'd like to know why the deuce you couldn't let a fellow know how ill you were."
Whitaker frowned over his dereliction. "Don't remember," he confessed. "I was hardly right, you know—and I presume I must have counted on Greyerson telling."
"But I don't know Greyerson...."
"That's so. And you never heard—?"
"Merely a rumour ran round. Some one—I forget who—told me that you and Stark had gone sailing in Stark's boat—to cruise in the West Indies, according to my informant. And somebody else mentioned that he'd heard you were seriously ill. More than that nothing—until we heard that the Adventuress had been lost, half a year later."
"I'm sorry," said Whitaker contritely. "It was thoughtless...."
"But that isn't all," Drummond objected, flourishing another paper. "See here—Exhibit B—came in a day or so later."
"Yes." Whitaker recognized the document. "I remember insisting on writing to you before we turned in that night."
He ran through the following communication:
"Dear Drummond: I married here, to-night, Mary Ladislas. Please look out for her while I'm away. Make her an allowance out of my money—five hundred a month ought to be enough. I shall die intestate, and she'll get everything then, of course. She has your address and will communicate with you as soon as she gets settled down in Town.