"For their sake. It is not fair to them that we should let them run the risk of being contaminated by even a remote connection with the shadow which, I suppose sooner or later, is sure to fall on us. It will come specially hard on me--because I don't mind telling you, between ourselves, that Miss Jardine's society to me means much." I stared; things were coming out. "But the knowledge that this is so has come too late. Unless the whole business of the club--I won't give it a name, but you know the club which meets once a month in Horseferry Road--is a ghastly joke."
"That is what it is."
"What?"
"A ghastly joke."
Beaupré looked up at me. I don't know what he saw in my face, but a funny look came on his own--a look almost of fear.
"Sometimes, Townsend, I don't know if you're a man or a devil."
"The devil was a sublimated sort of man, and I expect he still is. This coffee is just a trifle too sweet."
It was my second cup. I was sitting up in bed and stirring it.
"Of course, you have done nothing."
He said "Of course"; but I saw he was uneasy.