“Ah! Perhaps I should have said affliction; yes, that is the better word. To own the truth, the fellow has some good qualities. It was no doubt because he realised, when in his better moments–”
“Better moments? Mr. Winthrope, I am not a child. In justice both to myself and to Mr. Blake, I must ask you to speak out plainly.”
“My dear Miss Leslie, may I first ask if you have not observed how strangely at times the fellow acts,–‘looks odd,’ as you put it,–how he falls into melancholia or senseless rages? I may truthfully state that he has three times threatened my life.”
“I–I thought his anger quite natural, after I had so rudely–and so many people are given to brooding– But if he was violent to you–”
“My dear Miss Genevieve, I hold nothing against the miserable fellow. At such times he is not–er–responsible, you know. Let us give the fellow full credit–that is why he himself built your door.”
“Oh, but I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” cried the girl. “It’s not possible! He’s so strong, so true and manly, so kind, for all his gruffness!”
“Ah, my dear!” soothed Winthrope, “that is the pity of it. But when a man must needs be his worst enemy, when he must needs lead a certain kind of life, he must take the consequences. To put it as delicately as possible, yet explain all, I need only say one word–paranoia.”
Miss Leslie gathered up her day’s outfit with trembling fingers, and went to mount the cliff.
After waiting a few minutes Winthrope walked hurriedly through the cleft, and climbed the tree-ladder with an agility that would have amazed his companions. But he did not draw himself up on the cliff. Having satisfied himself that Miss Leslie was well out toward the signal, he returned to the baobab, and proceeded to examine Blake’s door with minute scrutiny.
That evening, shortly before dark, Blake came in almost exhausted by his journey. Few men could have covered the same ground in twice the time. It had been one continuous round of grass jungle, thorn scrub, rocks, and swamp. And for all his pains, he brought back with him nothing more than the discouraging information that the back-country was worse than the shore. Yet he betrayed no trace of depression over the bad news, and for all his fatigue, maintained a tone of hearty cheerfulness until, having eaten his fill, he suddenly observed Miss Leslie’s frigid politeness.