‘The fact is,’ I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, ‘his personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry out.’
‘You mean,’ she answered, ‘that you completely forgot to reveal to him your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.’
‘On the contrary, I didn’t forget it for a moment. But the conversation took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.’
‘I can understand,’ Miss Harris replied softly, ‘how that might be. And it doesn’t in the least matter,’ she went on triumphantly, ‘because I’ve told him myself.’
My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck me as a matter for offense. ‘You thought I would trample upon him,’ I exclaimed.
‘No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known—rien de plus,’ she said lightly.
‘What did he say?’
‘Oh, not much. What should he say?’
‘He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer’s account,’ I growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning.
‘I believe he apologized!’ I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage.