Hartley had not much to tell. The man had been in a position of responsibility in the Mangadone Bank, and Joicey had given information against him the very day he absconded. Rydal was married, and the cruel part of the story lay in the fact that he had deserted his wife on her deathbed, fully aware that she was dying.
"She died the evening he left, or was supposed to have left. At all events, the evening he disappeared."
"And the date?"
Coryndon's eyes were turned on Hartley's face, and he heard him laugh.
"You'll hardly believe it, but it happened, like everything else, on the twenty-ninth of July."
"Can your boy look after me for a few days?" Coryndon asked quietly. "I was not able to bring my bearer with me, and I may have to be here for a little longer than I had expected."
"Of course he can."
They walked into the bungalow together, and it surprised and distressed Hartley to see how white and weary the face of his friend showed under the hanging lamp.
"I ought not to have dragged you out," he said remorsefully.
"I am very glad you did."