“Tell him—­the truth?” The words came from her like a cry.  There was a sudden terror in her eyes.  He made a swift gesture of dismissal.  “Go, child!  Go!  Whatever I do will make it all right for you.  I’m standing by.  Don’t be afraid!  Just—­go!”

It was a definite command.  She turned to obey, the little girls still clinging to her.  The next moment she was running lightly back with them, and Saltash turned in the opposite direction and passed out of sight round the corner of the house on his way to the stable-yard.

CHAPTER XIII

THE TRUTH

He went with careless tread as his fashion was, whistling the gay air to which all England was dancing that season.  His swarthy countenance wore the half-mischievous, half-amused expression with which it was his custom to confront—­and baffle—­the world at large.  No one knew what lay behind that facile mask.  Only the very few suspected that it hid aught beyond a genial wickedness of a curiously attractive type.

His spurs rang upon the white stones, and Sheila Melrose, standing beside her father’s car in the shadow of some buildings, turned sharply and saw him.  Her face was pale; it had a strained expression.  But it changed at sight of him.  She regarded him with that look of frozen scorn which once she had flung him when they had met in the garish crowd at Valrosa.

Bunny was stooping over the car, but he became aware of Saltash almost in the same moment, and stood up straight to face him.  Sheila was pale, but he was perfectly white, and there were heavy drops of perspiration on his forehead.  He looked full at Saltash with eyes of blazing accusation.

Saltash’s face never changed as he came up to the car.  He ceased to whistle, but the old whimsical look remained.  He seemed unaware of any tension.

“Car all right?” he asked smoothly.  “Can I lend a hand?  The general is beginning to move.”

Sheila turned without a word and got into the car.

Bunny neither moved nor spoke.  He stood like a man paralysed.  It was Saltash who, with that royal air of amusing himself, stooped to the handle and started the engine.

The girl at the wheel did not even thank him.  She looked beyond.  Only as he stood aside and the car slid forward, she turned stiffly to Bunny.

“Good-bye!” she said.

He made a jerky movement.  Their eyes met for a single second.  “You will write?” he said.

His throat was working spasmodically, the words seemed to come with gigantic effort.  She bent her head in answer and passed between them through the white gate into the drive that led round to the house.

Saltash turned with a lightning movement to Bunny.  “Walk back with me and we can talk!” he said.

Bunny drew sharply back.  The movement was one of instinctive recoil.  But still no words came.  He stood staring at Saltash, and he was trembling from head to foot.