“If you could speak coherently, Henry,” Philippa observed, “I should like to say that I am exceedingly anxious to know why Mr. Lessingham has deserted us so precipitately.” Sir Henry would have taken his wife's arm, but she avoided him. He shrugged his shoulders and plodded up the steep path by her side. “The whole question of Lessingham is rather a problem,” he said. “Of course, you and Helen have seen very much more of him than I have. Isn't it true that people have begun to make curious remarks about him?” “How did you know that, Henry?” Philippa demanded. “Well, one hears things,” he replied. “I should gather, from what I heard, that his position here had become a little precarious. Hence his sudden disappearance.” “But he is coming back again,” Philippa reminded her husband. “Perhaps!” Philippa signified her desire that her husband should remain a little behind with her. They walked side by side up the gravel path. Philippa kept her hands clasped behind her. “To leave the subject of Mr. Lessingham for a time,” she began, “I feel very reluctant to ask for explanations of anything you do, but I must confess to a certain curiosity as to why I should find you lunching at the Canton with two very beautiful ladies, a few days ago, when you left here with Jimmy Dumble to fish for whiting; and also why you return here on a trawler which belongs to another part of the coast?” Sir Henry made a grimace. “I was beginning to wonder whether curiosity was dead,” he observed good-humouredly. “If you wouldn't mind giving me another--well, to be on the safe side let us say eight days--I think I shall be able to offer you an explanation which you will consider satisfactory.” “Thank you,” Philippa rejoined, with cold surprise; “I see no reason why you should not answer such simple questions at once.” Sir Henry sighed deprecatingly, and made another vain attempt to take his wife's arm. “Philippa, be a little brick,” he begged. “I know I seem to have been playing the part of a fool just lately, but there has been a sort of reason for it.” “What reason could there possibly be,” she demanded, “which you could not confide in me?” He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again there was a new earnestness in his tone. “Philippa,” he said, “I have been working for some time at a little scheme which isn't ripe to talk about yet, not even to you, but which may lead to something which I hope will alter your opinion. You couldn't see your way clear to trust me a little longer, could you?” he begged, with rather a plaintive gleam in his blue eyes. “It would make it so much easier for me to say no more but just have you sit tight.” “I wonder,” she answered coldly, “if you realise how much I have suffered, sitting tight, as you call it, and waiting for you to do something!” “My fishing excursions,” he went on desperately, “have not been altogether a matter of sport.”