“Thanks to you,” she murmured.  “However,” she added, with a little laugh, “I don’t want to frighten you away, and I know what would happen if I began to talk about our adventure.  I am sorry, Captain Granet,” she went on, turning towards where he was standing, “but I cannot possibly accept your aunt’s invitation.  It was very good of her to ask me and very kind of you to want me to go so much, but to-night I could not leave my mother.  She has been having rather a fit of nerves about Ralph the last few days, and she hates being left alone.”

“Captain Granet is trying to persuade you to leave London this evening?” Thomson asked quietly.

“He wants me very much to go down to Lady Anselman’s at Reigate to-night,” Geraldine explained.  “I really accepted Lady Anselman’s invitation some days ago, but that was before mother was so unwell.  I have written your aunt, Captain Granet,” she continued, turning to him.  “Do please explain to her how disappointed I am, and it was very nice of you to come and ask me to change my mind.”

There was brief but rather curious silence.  Granet had turned away form Geraldine as though to address Thomson.  He was meeting now the silent, half contemptuous challenge of the latter’s eyes.

“Captain Granet is showing great consideration for your comfort and safety,” Thomson remarked.

Granet for a moment forgot himself.  His eyes flashed.  He was half angry, half terrified.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

Thomson made no immediate answer.  He seemed to be pondering over his words, his expression was inscrutable.  Geraldine looked from one to the other.

“There is something between you two which I don’t understand,” she declared.

“There is a very great deal about Captain Granet which I am only just beginning to understand,” Thomson said calmly.  “You should find his solicitude about your movements this evening a great compliment, Geraldine.  It arises entirely from his desire to spare you the shock of what may turn out yet to be a very lamentable catastrophe.”

“You two men are quite incomprehensible,” Geraldine sighed.  “If only either of you would speak plainly!”

Thomson bowed.

“Perhaps I may be able to indulge you presently,” he observed.  “Since you have failed to persuade Miss Conyers to leave London, Captain Granet,” he went on, turning towards the latter, “may I ask what your own movements are likely to be?”

“You may not,” was the passionate reply.  “They are no concern of yours.”

“They are unfortunately,” Thomson retorted, “my very intimate concern.  This, you will remember, is your ninth day of grace.  It is not my desire that you should suffer unduly for your humane visit here, but I might remind you that under the circumstances it is a little compromising.  No, don’t interrupt me!  We understand one another, I am quite sure.”

Granet had taken a step backwards.  His face for a moment was blanched, his lips opened but closed again without speech.  Thomson was watching him closely.