A long silence. Even now, whatever secret, or association, there might be between these two men, neither was at ease with the other. Bede especially seemed to shrink from farther explanation.
"I have known but for a short while of your identity with Godfrey Pitman," he resumed. "And with George Winter. I have been waiting my own time to confer with you upon the subject. We have been very busy."
We have been very busy! If Bede put that forth as an excuse, it did not serve him: for his hearer knew it was not the true one. He simply answered that they had been very busy. Not by so much as a look or a syllable would George Winter--let us at last give him his true name--add to the terrible pain he knew his master to be suffering.
"About Miss Rye, sir? She must be extricated from her unpleasant position."
"Yes, of course."
"And her innocence proved."
"At the expense of another?" asked Bede, without lifting his eyes.
"No," answered the other in a low tone. "I do not think that need be."
Bede looked straight into the fire, his companion full at the window-blind, drawn half way down; neither of them at one another.
"How will you avoid it?" asked Bede.