He had found that Jock was not one of the
family and had got suspicious of his movements, but one may safely take
it Jock was watching him like a cat watching a mouse--very likely he
managed to overhear Bolton making enquiries, and he deliberately laid a
scent for him that took him to the cliffs."
"That sounds very likely," said she. "And then he took Bolton's pocket
book and made those entries."
"That pocket book is rather a sore subject!" I said.
I heard a little gurgle of laughter, but then she did not know how sore
the subject was. My scene with the unfortunate doctor was hardly my
happiest recollection of Ransay.
And so we went on trotting and walking and talking, and all the time I
was realising more and more vividly that if this could only be made the
first of ten thousand evenings with her, I should be the luckiest man in
the world. Also I was realising that for some reason she seemed to think
I had done something rather heroic in returning to the place where I had
nearly been scythed and shot, and tackling the unknown enemy
single-handed; especially after she happened to discover I had been
wounded. It made me feel--well, a little abashed and dreadfully afraid of
being found out when she knew me better, but extraordinarily happy for
the moment.
But for one sobering fact I should have told her everything I felt and
hoped before that walk was over.
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