And she turned and ascended the stairs, leaving me astonished and mystified.
What, I wondered, did that farewell note contain.
I saw her no more till next day. She sent me a message by the chambermaid to say that she was not coming down again and I passed the evening gossiping with Major Burton and two other “bobbing” enthusiasts.
By this time I had pretty thoroughly wearied of the eternal round of pleasure. Thelma’s obvious distress and the extraordinary mystery into which I had stumbled occupied all my thoughts and I could no longer take the slightest pleasure in the gay life which seethed and bubbled around me. It was therefore with a feeling of genuine relief that I found myself at last in the restaurant car of the Boulogne express, slowly leaving Interlaken for the long night run across France by way of Delle and Rheims. Already we had left behind us the crisp clear air of the mountains. The snow everywhere was half melted and slushy and the train pushed its way onward through a dense curtain of driving sleet.
We ate our dinner amid a gay crowd of holiday makers returning, not only from Mürren but from Grindelwald, Wengen, Adelboden, Kandersteg, and other winter sports centres. The talk was gay and animated, merry laughter resounded through the long car. Yet Thelma sat pale, silent and nervous and her tired eyes told their own tale of sleeplessness and anxiety. She gave me the impression that she had been crushed by some sudden and unexpected shock and though more than once I fancied she was on the edge of confiding in me, she remained almost dumb and was clearly disinclined to talk.
We arrived at Victoria on Sunday afternoon and I drove with her in a taxi to Charing Cross. On the way she suddenly seized my hand and looking straight into my eyes said—
“I really do not know how to thank you, Mr. Yelverton, for all your great kindness towards me. I know I have been a source of great worry to you—but—but—” she burst into tears without concluding the sentence.
I drew her towards me and strove to comfort her, declaring that I would continue to act as her friend and leave no stone unturned in my efforts to trace Stanley.
At last, as we went down the Mall, she dried her eyes and became more tranquil. We were approaching the terminus whence she was to travel to Bexhill.
“Now—tell me truthfully,” I said to her at last, “do you, or do you not, know where Stanley is?”