He moved away abruptly, feeling unreasonably mortified.
But Senator Burton was a very just man; he prided himself on his fairness of outlook; and now he reminded himself quickly that their stay at the Hôtel Saint Ange had not brought unmixed good fortune to the Poulains. It was natural that Madame Poulain should long to see the last of them—at any rate this time.
He found Gerald alone, seated at a table, intent on a letter he was writing. Daisy, it seemed, had persuaded Mrs. Dampier to go out for a walk before luncheon.
"Well, my boy, we shall have to make the best of the short time remaining to us in Paris. I have secured passages in the Lorraine, and so we now only have till Tuesday-week to see everything in Paris which this unhappy affair has prevented our seeing during the last fortnight."
And then it was that the something happened, that the irreparable words were spoken, which suddenly and most rudely opened the Senator's eyes to a truth which the English lawyer had seen almost from the first moment of his stay in Paris.
Gerald Burton started up. His face was curiously pale under its healthy tan, but the Senator noticed that his son's eyes were extraordinarily bright.
"Father?" He leant across the round table. "I am not going home with you. In fact I am now writing to Mr. Webb to tell him that he must not expect me back at the office for the present: I will cable as soon as I can give him a date."
"Not going home?" repeated Senator Burton. "What do you mean, Gerald? What is it that should keep you here after we have gone?" but a curious sensation of fear and dismay was already clutching at the older man's heart.
"I am never going back—not till John Dampier is found. I have promised
Mrs. Dampier to find him, and that whether he be alive or dead!"
Even then the Senator tried not to understand. Even then he tried to tell himself that his son was only actuated by some chivalrous notion of keeping his word, in determining on a course which might seriously damage his career.