But when he spoke it was in a lower tone.
'I'm not sure,' he said. 'I don't know what to do. Norah'—he turned to her with appeal in his eyes—'I must be quiet, don't you see, and think. I must get things clear.'
This was an Archie whom Norah knew better than the hard, decided, almost fierce animal that had just threatened Dick. He wanted to think things out.
'I must be alone,' he went on; then flamed out again. 'For God's sake send him away for half an hour.'
'Dick,' said Norah steadily, 'you'd better go down to the camp.' His eyes signalled to her to come too. Archie divined the intention.
'Norah,' he began, 'don't, just for now, don't...' then bitterness broke over him. 'Oh, well, it doesn't matter by now, does it?'
She resigned herself to the rack and promised to stay with him while Dick went down to the lake. But Archie spared her. He was going, he said, to walk in the hills, and called Matao to give her breakfast.
'I ought to have seen that Ward had breakfast,' he said. Then as he paced away into the forest she thought she could detect the words, 'they serve breakfast in the condemned cell....'
In moments of danger Norah's romanticism had a way of lapsing, leaving her as practical as a Swiss hotel-keeper. She ate a good meal of cold roan. She knew she would need all her strength to keep Archie and Dick apart. Moreover, if this was to be her last breakfast, it should be a good one.
She did not suppose that even this new, incalculable Archie contemplated leaving her to starve; she was less sure about his plans for Dick. And of course she would stay with Dick.