“What did I tell you?” he cried contemptuously; “they got away in this boat because they were afraid of ME, not because they were afraid of being drowned. If they’ve nothing to be afraid of, why are they so anxious to keep us drifting around all night in this fog? Why don’t they help us stop one of those tugs?”
Lord Ivy exploded suddenly.
“Rot!” he exclaimed. “If they’re afraid of you, why did they ask you to go with them?”
“They didn’t!” cried Aldrich, truthfully and triumphantly. “They kidnapped you and Moya because they thought they could square themselves with YOU. But they didn’t want ME!” The issue had been fairly stated, and no longer with self-respect could I remain silent.
“We don’t want you now!” I said. “Can’t you understand,” I went on with as much self-restraint as I could muster, “we are willing and anxious to explain ourselves to Lord Ivy, or even to you, but we don’t want to explain to the police? My friend thought you and Lord Ivy were crooks, escaping. You think WE are crooks, escaping. You both—”
Aldrich snorted contemptuously.
“That’s a likely story!” he cried. “No wonder you don’t want to tell THAT to the police!”
From the bow came an exclamation, and Lady Moya rose to her feet.
“Phil!” she said, “you bore me!” She picked her way across the thwart to where Kinney sat at the stroke oar.
“My brother and I often row together,” she said; “I will take your place.”