Her manner troubled him.  “I hope he is not attempting to annoy you,” he said searchingly.

She looked surprised and, he thought, a little resentful at his question.  “Me?” she returned coldly.  “By hanging about in the plantation?”

“If he goes no farther than that—­”

“Why should he?” she demanded in the same rather chilling tone.

“I don’t know,” Gifford replied, set back by her manner.  “Except that I have no high opinion of the fellow.  It occurred to me he might possibly attempt to persecute you.”

She glanced round at him curiously with a little disdainful smile.  “What makes you think he would do that?” she returned.

Her attitude was to him not convincing.  He felt there was a certain reservation beneath the rather cutting tone.  “I am glad to know there is no question of that,” he replied with quiet earnestness.  “I hope if anything of the kind should occur and you should need a friend you will not overlook me.”

“You are very kind,” she responded, but without turning towards him.  He thought, however, that her low tone had softened, and it gave him hope.

“I should scarcely take upon myself to suggest this,” he said, “but I am emboldened by two facts.  One that you have already asked me to be your ally, your friend, in this business, the other that there is something about Henshaw and his actions which I do not understand.  I hope you will forgive my boldness.”

His companion had glanced round now, keenly, as though to probe for the meaning which might lie beneath his words.  He speculated whether she might be wondering how much he knew; was he cognisant of her meeting with Henshaw?

But, whatever her thought, she answered in the same even voice, “There is nothing to forgive.  On the contrary I am most grateful.”

They were nearing the house, and Gifford was debating whether he dared suggest another turn along the shrubbery path, when Richard Morriston appeared at the hall door, beckoned to them, and went in again.

“I wonder what Dick wants.  Has anything more come to light?” Miss Morriston observed with a rather bored laugh as she slightly quickened her pace.

As they went in she called, “Dick!” and he answered her from the library.  There they found him with Kelson and Muriel Tredworth.  A glance at their faces told Gifford that they were all in a state of scarcely suppressed excitement.

“I say, Edith, what do you think?” her brother exclaimed.  “We’ve made a rather important discovery.  Were you in the middle room of the tower during the dance?”

For a moment his sister did not answer.

“No; I don’t think I was,” she said, with what seemed to Gifford a certain amount of apprehension in her eyes, although her expression was calm enough.

“Oh, but, my dear girl, you must have been,” Morriston insisted vehemently.  “We have found the explanation of the stains on Miss Tredworth’s dress and on yours.”