"Suzanne," I said, "very soon you'll have had enough of South Africa and adventure."
"I should like a really nice hat," admitted Suzanne wistfully. "Shall I come with you to meet Guy Pagett to-morrow?"
"I prefer to go alone. He'd be shyer speaking before two of us."
So it came about that I was standing in the doorway of the hotel on the following afternoon, struggling with a recalcitrant parasol that refused to go up, whilst Suzanne lay peacefully on her bed with a book and a basket of fruit.
According to the hotel porter, the train was on its good behaviour to-day and would be almost on time, though he was extremely doubtful whether it would ever get through to Johannesburg. The line had been blown up, so he solemnly assured me. It sounded cheerful!
The train drew in just ten minutes late. Everybody tumbled out on the platform and began walking up and down feverishly. I had no difficulty in espying Pagett. I accosted him eagerly. He gave his usual nervous start at seeing me—somewhat accentuated this time.
"Dear me, Miss Beddingfeld, I understood that you had disappeared."
"I have reappeared again," I told him solemnly. "And how are you, Mr. Pagett?"
"Very well, thank you—looking forward to taking up my work again with Sir Eustace."
"Mr. Pagett," I said, "there is something I want to ask you. I hope that you won't be offended, but a lot hangs on it, more than you can possibly guess. I want to know what you were doing at Marlow on the 8th of January last?"
He started violently.
