"I believe you would," I said, with genuine admiration. Then, lighting another cigarette, I added: "How long was it before de Roda discovered the truth?"
"It was two days after we landed. Directly we came ashore he left me at an hotel and went straight to da Silva's address. He had been very puzzled at not hearing again and getting no answer to his letters, but of course when he found out what had happened it explained everything. Da Silva had told us about Greensea Island in his first letter, however, so the next morning Uncle Phillip motored down here to make enquiries. The first thing he learned was that Gardiner was dead."
"How did he take it?" I enquired
"He seemed almost stunned when he came back. He sat all the evening without saying a word, and, although I did my best to comfort him, I don't think he even heard what I said. It was not until the next morning that he told me he had taken a lease of 'The Laurels.' I didn't bother him with any questions, but from the way he spoke I felt sure he believed that the diamonds, or what was left of them, were still hidden on the island. By this time he had got a kind of half-insane conviction that they were his own property."
"I am inclined to agree with him," I said. "Anyhow, I'd a jolly sight rather he had them than the Brazilian Government." I paused. "Had he tumbled across the fact of my existence?" I asked.
"Not then," she replied. "Nobody down here had any idea of what would happen to the property. I was the only one who knew, and that was why I asked you to meet me that day in Bond Street. I was afraid that directly Uncle Philip learned the truth he would suspect you of having the stones. You were Gardiner's nephew too, and in the queer state he was in that alone was quite enough to put your life in danger."
"You've acted like a brick all through, Christine," I said gratefully.
"I only did what anyone else would have done," she went on hurriedly. "I felt you ought to be warned, but at the time I little guessed the real state of affairs." She stopped, with a queer expression in her brown eyes. "You see, it was not until two days later that I first met Dr. Manning."
"Ah!" I said softly. "Now we're getting to the part in which I take a rather particular interest."
"I heard about him from the people at the inn," she continued. "I wanted to find out the address of some medical man in case Uncle Philip was ill, so I called in at the Gunner's Arms the morning after we arrived and asked the landlord's advice. He told me that there was no practising doctor nearer than Torrington, but that if I wanted anyone in a hurry he had no doubt that Dr. Manning would come at once. That very night my uncle had one of his worst heart attacks. The only other person in the house was an old Frenchwoman we had brought with us from London. I sent her to the barge with a note, and Dr. Manning got up, dressed, and came along immediately." She laughed again, even more bitterly than before. "I remember thinking at the time how extraordinarily kind it was of him."