Chris swore under his breath. He would have gone on without speaking, but Feathers caught his arm.
"Hullo!" And then: "Good Lord, Chris, you're soaking wet. Not another accident, surely? Who have you pulled out—this time?"
"Myself. I went out in a skiff and the damned thing upset."
He told the lie badly and, conscious of the fact, he went on hurriedly: "Here, I want to change. I'm as cold as blazes. You needn't say anything to Marie—it will only upset her."
Feathers stood aside silently and Chris went up to his room.
He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He had a hot bath before he got into dry clothes.
Moonlight might be romantic, and all the rest of it, he told himself, but a moonlight bath was not exactly pleasant.
He cursed Mrs. Heriot under his breath and his own folly; he could not imagine what had possessed him to go out with her; he congratulated himself for having bluffed Feathers, for he knew Feathers hated Mrs. Heriot.
75 He rang for a hot whisky and went to Marie's room. He could hear her moving about inside, and tapped at the door.
"Come in!"