" "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. It seems to me exactly what is wanted. ” “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. Will I meet you there?’ ‘Yes, yes, I shall await you. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. To be free of outward distraction, he shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly, with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face; the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony; the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms, now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. Your family has not sullied itself by dabbling in it, at least not 173 from what I know, so now is not the time to begin. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically.
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