She spoke with a kind of indignant energy, and there was an obstinate look in her blue eyes, which showed me plainly that it would be waste of time trying to reason with her.
I reflected quickly. Perhaps after all it would be best for me to see
Tommy myself. He at least would appreciate the danger of dragging
Joyce into the business, and between us we might be able to persuade
her that I was right.
"Well, what are your ideas, Joyce?" I said. "Except for keeping my eye on George I had no particular plan until I heard from McMurtrie."
Joyce laid her hand on my sleeve. "Tomorrow," she said, "you must go and see Tommy. He is coming back by the midday train, and he will get to the flat about two o'clock. Tell him everything that you have told me. I shan't be able to get away from here till the evening, but I shall be free then, and we three will talk the whole thing over. I shan't make any more appointments here after tomorrow."
"Very well," I said reluctantly. "I will go and look up Tommy, but I can't see that it will do any good. I am only making you and him liable to eighteen months' hard labour." She was going to speak, but I went on. "Don't you see, Joyce dear, there are only two possible courses open to me? I can either wait and carry out my agreement with McMurtrie, or I can go down to Chelsea and force the truth about Marks's death out of George—if he really knows it. Dragging you two into my wretched affairs won't alter them at all."
"Yes, it will," she said obstinately. "There are lots of ways in which we can help you. Suppose these people turn out wrong, for instance; they might even mean to give you up to the police as soon as they've got your secret. And then there's George. If he does know anything about the murder I'm the only person who is the least likely to find it out. Why—"
A discreet knock at the outer door interrupted her, and she got up from the sofa.
"That's Jack with the lunch," she said. "Come along, Neil dear. We won't argue about it any more now. Let's forget everything for an hour,—just be happy together as if we were back in Chelsea."
She held out her hands to me, her lips smiling, her blue eyes just on the verge of tears. I drew her towards me and gently stroked her hair, as I used to do in the old days in Chelsea when she had come to me with some of her childish troubles. I felt an utter brute to think that I could ever have doubted her loyalty, even for an instant.
How long we kept the luckless Jack waiting on the mat I can't say, but at last Joyce detached herself, and crossing the room, opened the door. Jack came in carrying a basket in one hand and a table-cloth in the other. If he felt any surprise at finding Joyce with her hair down he certainly didn't betray it.