"I can understand," said the vicar thoughtfully, perhaps flattered at the tribute to his worldly knowledge. "I can not praise—possibly can not sympathize; but at least I may fairly claim to understand."
"Thank you—thank you! Well, to be as brief as I can (and every minute is precious!), my friend and I had reason to suspect the occupants of The Quiet House——"
"Ha!" The vicar pricked up his ears. "Certain hints and whisperings have drifted round to me in the course of my parochial visiting, but——"
"Please, please, don't interrupt. You forget the London train! Mr. Wild and I entered The Quiet House garden by night to watch——"
"Surely that——"
"Yes—yes—yes! Most reprehensible, but you do not know all. We watched, were discovered, and in making our escape Mr. Wild was captured. I have not seen him since."
"What!"
"For five days I have been alone, miserable, in doubt and anguish. I have wondered, waited, made cautious inquiries. Nothing has happened. What am I to do?"
"You suspect——?" queried the vicar in delightful horror. He felt his hair bristling in anticipation.
"I do not know ... I can not guess. They say it is high politics—the Turkish government.... A spy.... I do not know what to believe. What can I do?"