urrance went blind--you know the man he was, you
can understand what blindness meant to him, the loss of everything he
cared for--"

"Except you."

"Yes," Ethne answered quietly, "except me. So I became engaged to him.
But he has grown very quick--you cannot guess how quick. And he sees so
very clearly. A hint tells him the whole hidden truth. At present he
knows nothing of the four feathers."

"Are you sure?" suddenly exclaimed Feversham.

"Yes. Why?" asked Ethne, turning her face towards him for the first time
since she had sat down.

"Lieutenant Sutch was at Suakin while I was at Omdurman. He knew that I
was a prisoner there. He sent messages to me, he tried to organise my
escape."

Ethne was startled.

"Oh," she said, "Colonel Durrance certainly knew that you were in
Omdurman. He saw you in Wadi Halfa, and he heard that you had gone south
into the desert. He was distressed about it; he asked a friend to get
news of you, and the friend got news that you were in Omdurman. He told
me so himself, and--yes, he told me that he would try to arrange for
your escape. No doubt he has done that through Lieutenant Sutch. He has
been at Wiesbaden with an oculist; he only returned a week ago.
Otherwise he would have told me about it. Very likely he was the reason
why Lieutenant Sutch was at Suakin, but he knows nothing of the four
feathers. He only knows that our engagement was abruptly broken off; he
believes that I have no longer any thought of you at all. But if you
come back, if you and I saw anything of each other, however calmly we
met, however indifferently we spoke, he would guess. He is so quick he
would be sure to guess." She paused for a moment, and added in a
whisper, "And he would guess right."

Feversham saw the blood flush her forehead and deepen the colour of her
cheeks. He did not move from his position, he did not bend towards her,
or even in voice give any sign which would make this leave-taking yet
more difficult to carry through.

"Yes, I see," he said. "And he must not guess."

"No, he must not," returned Ethne. "I am so glad you see that too,
Harry. The straight and simple thing is the only thing for us to do. He
must never guess, for, as you said, he has nothing left but me."

"Is Durrance here?" asked Feversham.

"He is staying at the vicarage."

"Very well," he said. "It is only fair that I should tell you I had no
thought that you would wait. I had no wish that you should; I had no
rig