"The conditions?" she queried softly.
Rayton shot a brief, but imploring glance at her.
"What I mean is—ah—why should David Marsh get the card? I hope—I mean I can't see—ah—I can't see any association between a chap like David and——"
He fell silent, became very red, and blinked at the fire.
"Please go on," she whispered. "Please tell me what you think, for I know you are honest, fearless and sane, Mr. Rayton. You must forgive me for speaking so frankly—but that is what Jim says of you. You were saying that you cannot see any connection between David Marsh and—and what?"
Reginald took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
"Between Marsh and those others who received the marked cards," he said. "First, it was the young sailor, the chap in the navy—the Spaniard's winning rival. Next it was your father—a man of character and—and breeding. Now David Marsh gets the card! That seems absurd to me. It seems like a man going out to kill a partridge with an elephant gun. It—it does not look to me like a continuation of the—the same idea at all."
"Why not? Please be quite frank with me. Why does it seem different?"
"But really, Miss Harley, I—I have no right to air my—my opinions."
"I want you to. I beg you to. I am sure your opinions will help me."