Then I really could not contain myself, though I had intended to keep silence until we were outside the grounds.
“Moore,” I burst out, “how could you? Breaking your promise and terrifying me, and, and—”
I could scarcely speak. I was on the point of tears, which under the circumstances I should have felt peculiarly humiliating.
The boy was distressed, and in reality, I think, not a little frightened. But he held his ground, nevertheless.
“No, Reggie,” he replied, “you must not say I broke my word. I promised I would do nothing without letting you know. And I did let you know that I had not given it up, and that I meant to do more; you dared me to, you know you did, and I called after you, ‘you shall see if I find out nothing,’ and you only laughed.”
“I call that a mean quibble,” I replied indignantly, though in my heart I felt that I had been wildly injudicious. “You did not tell me where you were going this evening before you came out.”
“No,” he replied, “I had not decided that I would come—word of honour, Reggie. And I am very sorry that I stayed so long—but—it was so tempting. I got in so easily, and everything seemed to favour it, and—”
“Moore,” I exclaimed, “did you really go into the house? I am ashamed of you. It wasn’t like a gentleman;” and indeed I felt aghast.
“Only into that first room,” he replied deprecatingly. “I did so want to see what was behind that black curtain, though—you were right, Reggie—it isn’t black, only very dark red.”
“And what was behind it?” I could not help asking.