“Heaven knows!” said I. “But what he has done has been to find Captain Vauvenarde. I am glad he has done that, but I am deeply sorry he sent you the telegram.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“Because there was no reason for your coming,” I said with unwonted gravity. “It would have been better if you had stayed in London, and it will be best if you take the boat back again to-morrow.”
She remained silent for a while. Then she said in a low voice:
“He won't have me?”
“He hasn't been asked,” I said. “He will, as far as I can command the situation, never be asked.”
On that I had fully determined; and, when she inquired the reason, I told her.
“I proposed that you should reunite yourself with an honourable though somewhat misguided gentleman. I've had the reverse of pleasure in meeting Captain Vauvenarde, and I regret to say, though he is still misguided, he can scarcely be termed honourable. The term 'gentleman' has still to be accurately defined.”
She made a writhing movement of impatience.
“Tell me straight out what he's doing in Algiers. You're trying to make things easy for me. It's the way of your class. It isn't the way of mine. I'm used to brutality. I like it better. Why did he leave the army and why is he in Algiers?”