“Then you left Dieppe in a hurry?” I commented.
She replied quite unsuspectingly:
“They shot us into the yacht like an expressed trunk. I was in such a temper that I tore my lace dress all to pieces on the something or other. Miss Aston, she looked daggers. I don’t know just how daggers look, but she looked them. The Captain said he wouldn’t have to blow the siren if she would only speak up.”
“My dear Joan, whatever are you saying? Captain Doubleday would never so forget himself. He sent roses to my cabin directly I went on board.”
“Because he wanted you to help navigate the ship, cousin. He said you were a born seaman. Now, when I go back to London——”
“Are you returning this winter?” I asked with as much indifference as I could command. She shook her head sadly.
“We never know where my father is going. It’s always rush and hurry except when we are here at Santa Maria. And there’s no one but the parish priest to flirt with. I tried so hard when we first came here—such a funny little yellow man, just like a monkey. My heart was half broken when Cousin Emma cut me out.”
“Cousin Emma”—by whom she indicated the masculine Miss Aston—protested loudly for the second time, and again the talk reverted to Europe. I, however, had two facts which I entered in my notebook directly I went upstairs. And this is the entry that I made:
“(1) Joan Fordibras left Dieppe at a moment’s notice. Ergo, her departure was the direct issue of my own.
“(2) The General’s yacht put out to sea, but returned when I had left. Ergo, his was not the yacht which I had followed to South Africa.”