vague echoes of Bertie Wooster.
‘In what way?’
‘I wondered if you knew a woman of the utmost respectability.’
‘Possibly,’ I replied. ‘But I might be wrong. Why?’
‘Miss Cynthia Carlis has appeared at my hotel. A chaperone is essential. I should not wish a breath of suspicion to rest upon her.’
‘But, for God’s sake, you can have separate rooms!’ I exclaimed. ‘And what makes you think she wants one anyway?’
I received the full broadside of an outraged Fosworthy. My remark was an insult to her. She was the very flower of innocent purity. One had only to look at her. How dared I?
I apologised. I begged him to believe that my view of womanhood had been corrupted by mining camps. A preposterous statement! Mining camps in fact are suspended in an unsophisticated void
between cheerful obscenity and an idealism as hopeful as Fosworthy’s own. But he accepted my excuse as plausible, and calmed down.
So I was able to persist with tactful questioning and obtained some account of his doings. He assured me that he had been very cautious, avoiding Undine’s home and friends and waiting for
a chance to waylay her in the street. As soon as he succeeded, it was no longer necessary to visit Bath, for she was willing to meet him in Bristol or half-way. Twice she had tea with him. Once he
took her to a theatre. Once they had a morning together in the river meadows of the Avon.
‘And did you come directly back by train to London?’
‘Yes, from Bristol, where I said farewell to her. And then very carefully I called on you last night. But you weren’t in.’
It sounded like a child’s reproach.
‘And how did you spend today?’
‘Quietly in my room. I telephoned to her by previous arrangement to tell her that I had arrived and to express my devotion. She replied shortly that she herself was coming to London and
that I should book a room for her at my hotel. I blame myself for not reminding her at once that she would be compromised, but I was so overjoyed and she sounded so agitated that I did not. After
her arrival this afternoon I wished to see you and confide in you instantly. I was very conscious, however, that I owed it to you to wait until dark.’
Dark! He was hypnotised by words and conventions. As if he could not be followed in the excellent street lighting of London! He probably turned up his coat collar and pulled his hat over his
eyes, making himself more conspicuous still.
It was now certain that there really had been an attempt to remove me. The coat alone did not prove beyond doubt that I had received and helped Barnabas Fosworthy; he might have chucked it into
the boot of the car himself, rather than into a ditch. Similarly, my indiscretion to the Bank Manager could have an innocent explanation—that I had guessed, by putting two and two together,
the name of the man whom Aviston-Tresco had chased through the haunted darkness of the Mendips. But when, on the previous night, Fosworthy had been followed to my address, there was no longer any
reason to hesitate.
‘Is Miss Carlis connected with all these former associates of yours?’I asked.
‘No! No!’ he exclaimed. ‘If she were, I could never have risked all this. As it was, I had to be especially careful, since she has a female friend who heard, I fear, my
original rejection of our beliefs and was most displeased by it, but she had no reason to guess the identity of the cause of my emotion.’
‘Why shouldn’t your Cynthia have told her?’
‘Because I asked her not to, and she willingly gave me her word.’
Well, I couldn’t complain. He had warned me when he was at Hammersmith that his whole object in life was to be with his enchantress. My only hope was that she felt the affinity nonsense as
strongly as he did. But it seemed most unlikely.
‘So this friend of hers is in touch with Aviston-Tresco?’
‘You know his name?’
‘Of course I do,’ I answered impatiently. ‘What I don’t know is why he
‘In what way?’
‘I wondered if you knew a woman of the utmost respectability.’
‘Possibly,’ I replied. ‘But I might be wrong. Why?’
‘Miss Cynthia Carlis has appeared at my hotel. A chaperone is essential. I should not wish a breath of suspicion to rest upon her.’
‘But, for God’s sake, you can have separate rooms!’ I exclaimed. ‘And what makes you think she wants one anyway?’
I received the full broadside of an outraged Fosworthy. My remark was an insult to her. She was the very flower of innocent purity. One had only to look at her. How dared I?
I apologised. I begged him to believe that my view of womanhood had been corrupted by mining camps. A preposterous statement! Mining camps in fact are suspended in an unsophisticated void
between cheerful obscenity and an idealism as hopeful as Fosworthy’s own. But he accepted my excuse as plausible, and calmed down.
So I was able to persist with tactful questioning and obtained some account of his doings. He assured me that he had been very cautious, avoiding Undine’s home and friends and waiting for
a chance to waylay her in the street. As soon as he succeeded, it was no longer necessary to visit Bath, for she was willing to meet him in Bristol or half-way. Twice she had tea with him. Once he
took her to a theatre. Once they had a morning together in the river meadows of the Avon.
‘And did you come directly back by train to London?’
‘Yes, from Bristol, where I said farewell to her. And then very carefully I called on you last night. But you weren’t in.’
It sounded like a child’s reproach.
‘And how did you spend today?’
‘Quietly in my room. I telephoned to her by previous arrangement to tell her that I had arrived and to express my devotion. She replied shortly that she herself was coming to London and
that I should book a room for her at my hotel. I blame myself for not reminding her at once that she would be compromised, but I was so overjoyed and she sounded so agitated that I did not. After
her arrival this afternoon I wished to see you and confide in you instantly. I was very conscious, however, that I owed it to you to wait until dark.’
Dark! He was hypnotised by words and conventions. As if he could not be followed in the excellent street lighting of London! He probably turned up his coat collar and pulled his hat over his
eyes, making himself more conspicuous still.
It was now certain that there really had been an attempt to remove me. The coat alone did not prove beyond doubt that I had received and helped Barnabas Fosworthy; he might have chucked it into
the boot of the car himself, rather than into a ditch. Similarly, my indiscretion to the Bank Manager could have an innocent explanation—that I had guessed, by putting two and two together,
the name of the man whom Aviston-Tresco had chased through the haunted darkness of the Mendips. But when, on the previous night, Fosworthy had been followed to my address, there was no longer any
reason to hesitate.
‘Is Miss Carlis connected with all these former associates of yours?’I asked.
‘No! No!’ he exclaimed. ‘If she were, I could never have risked all this. As it was, I had to be especially careful, since she has a female friend who heard, I fear, my
original rejection of our beliefs and was most displeased by it, but she had no reason to guess the identity of the cause of my emotion.’
‘Why shouldn’t your Cynthia have told her?’
‘Because I asked her not to, and she willingly gave me her word.’
Well, I couldn’t complain. He had warned me when he was at Hammersmith that his whole object in life was to be with his enchantress. My only hope was that she felt the affinity nonsense as
strongly as he did. But it seemed most unlikely.
‘So this friend of hers is in touch with Aviston-Tresco?’
‘You know his name?’
‘Of course I do,’ I answered impatiently. ‘What I don’t know is why he
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