He was so entirely sincere that he omitted to apologise. She smiled faintly, and continued her scrutiny of him and the sipping of her coffee. "Smoke," she said, "and give me a cigarette. It assists the reasoning faculties." He got up, and went round the table to her with his open case in his hand. When he had lighted her cigarette he returned to his seat. "I don't wish to appear inhospitable--" she began... "I am leaving to-morrow," he interrupted her shortly. She blew a cloud of smoke and followed it as it curled upward with her eyes. Then she looked again at Dare. He was leaning with his elbows on the tablecloth, his expression gloomily abstracted, his sombre eyes as they met hers conveying a mute resentment. Her attitude struck him as peculiarly unsympathetic. "You must not go in there again," she said. He stared in some surprise. "I have no intention of doing so," he answered. "I didn't come down to fool about, but to gain information. I've learnt all I came to learn." "And what use are you going to make of your information?" she asked. She could not, despite the utmost caution, disguise her strong curiosity. That he would rest satisfied in the inactive role of sympathiser she did not for a moment believe. He would want to do things, want to concern himself actively in what was after all no business of his. These lean men generally had a reserve of energy which broke forth at awkward seasons, and manifested itself in disquieting ways. He knocked the ash from his cigarette against the rim of a saucer, and refrained from looking at her as he replied. "I don't know yet I suppose the immediate thing is to find Arnott, and discover what the fellow is really up to... I wish he were dead." "That would certainly simplify matters," she said. "But people don't die merely to be obliging. You'll find him very much alive, I expect." He nodded in gloomy acquiescence. "And while you are ransacking the country for Arnott, what about your own affairs?" she inquired. "Oh! that's all right. I'm entitled to leave." He emitted a short laugh. "I believe you regard me in the light of an irresponsible person." "I've met wiser people," she allowed. "Quixotism is a form of benevolent insanity. Look at it how you will, your undertaking is quixotic in the last degree." "So long as it is only that," he returned, "I don't see why you need set your face against it." "It's the futility of it," she said, "that appeals to me. What you purpose doing is a job for the Supreme Court; and even the law cannot force a man to return to his wife against his will."