There was no answer; Mrs. Ellmother had abruptly risen once more. “Hush!” she whispered. “Don’t I hear somebody near us?”
Alban at once went back, along the winding path which they had followed. No creature was visible in the gardens or on the terrace. On returning, he found it impossible to use his eyes to any good purpose in the obscurity among the trees. He waited a while, listening intently. No sound was audible: there was not even air enough to stir the leaves.
As he returned to the place that he had left, the silence was broken by the chimes of the distant church clock, striking the three-quarters past ten.
Even that familiar sound jarred on Mrs. Ellmother’s shattered nerves. In her state of mind and body, she was evidently at the mercy of any false alarm which might be raised by her own fears. Relieved of the feeling of distrust which had thus far troubled him, Alban sat down by her again—opened his match-box to relight his pipe—and changed his mind. Mrs. Ellmother had unconsciously warned him to be cautious.
For the first time, he thought it likely that the heat in the house might induce some of the inmates to try the cooler atmosphere in the grounds. If this happened, and if he continued to smoke, curiosity might tempt them to follow the scent of tobacco hanging on the stagnant air.
“Is there nobody near us?” Mrs. Ellmother asked. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. Now tell me, did you really mean it, when you said just now that you wanted my advice?”
“Need you ask that, sir? Who else have I got to help me?”
“I am ready and willing to help you—but I can’t do it unless I know first what has passed between you and Miss de Sor. Will you trust me?”
“I will!”