"I see," he said again. "And was that true at the beginning—when I first saw you—on the Kilmorden?"
"No," I whispered. "It was—since then."
"I see," he said for the third time, but this time there was a purposeful ring in his voice that made me turn and look at him. His face was grimmer than I had ever seen it.
"What—what do you mean?" I faltered.
He looked at me, inscrutable, dominating.
"Only—that I know now what I have to do."
His words sent a shiver through me. There was a determination behind them that I did not understand—and it frightened me.
We neither of us said any more until we got back to the hotel. I went straight up to Suzanne. She was lying on her bed reading, and did not look in the least as though she had a headache.
"Here reposes the perfect gooseberry," she remarked. "Alias the tactful chaperone. Why, Anne dear, what's the matter?"
For I had burst into a flood of tears.
I told her about the cats—I felt it wasn't fair to tell her about Colonel Race. But Suzanne is very sharp. I think she saw that there was something more behind.
"You haven't caught a chill, have you, Anne? Sounds absurd even to suggest such things in this heat, but you keep on shivering."
"It's nothing," I said. "Nerves—or some one walking over my grave. I keep feeling something dreadful's going to happen."
"Don't be silly," said Suzanne, with decision. "Let's talk of something interesting. Anne, about those diamonds"
"What about them?"
"I'm not sure they're safe with me. It was all right
