THE YELLOW DOVE
pride, even my sense of what is fitting for a girl to do, in the hope that you will listen to me.”
“Yes,” he murmured, “but not now, Doris. You must go back.”
“Not yet” she protested.
“I—I have much to do” he said.
“That messenger—O Cyril—you mustn’t. Come back with me—tonight—now”
“I can’t,” he muttered. “It—it is important for me to stay here”
She loosened his arms and stood away from him, peering down into the cove where clouds of black smoke were belching from the funnels of the black vessel. The water of the cove was churning in its wake and its prow was turning toward the harbor mouth.
Suddenly she saw Cyril start and peer around him in the darkness.
“Who sent you here?” she heard his voice in a strangled whisper at her ear.
“No one,” she denied again, “I followed you.”
“That isn’t possible, Doris,” he said quickly. “I have reasons for knowing. You were here before I came. Rizzio told you He knew what was to happen—he was the only one who could have known.”
“Why?” Her curiosity sent all subterfuge flying. She could see his pale face in the moonlight.
“Because it was Rizzio who sent this messenger to meet me.”
“Rizzio!” The mystery was deepening. “I can’t understand.”
He hesitated a long moment before replying, as though weighing something in his mind.
“I’ll tell you this much,” he said at last. “You’ve a right to know. Rizzio told you that he was an agent
118
