AN INTRUDER
dinary! I can’t understand—Saltham Rocks—that’s on my place. Something must be done, Cyril.”
Hammersley yawned. “Oh, tomorrow will do. Couldn’t catch the beggars in the dark. Besides, it’s late. Do me a favor, Betty. Don’t let those people come in here again. I want a word with Doris.”
He had stretched himself out comfortably on the Davenport, his eyes on the girl, who still stood uncertainly beside him.
Lady Betty shrugged, and taking up her basin and lotion moved toward the door.
“It’s most mysterious. Are you sure we’re quite safe?”
“Quite. But I think it might be better if I had the room between yours and Doris’s.”
“I was putting John Rizzio there.”
“Well, change—there’s a dear. And say nothing about it. I—I might need a new dressing on this thing in the night.”
She examined him curiously, but he was looking lazily into the fire, having already taken her acquiescence for granted.
When she went out, Hammersley sat up and threw his cigarette into the fire.
“You have it still?” he whispered anxiously, taking Doris by both hands.
She nodded.
“Thank God for that. I seemed to have arrived at the proper moment.”
“I was about to burn them.”
He drew a long breath of relief.
“You know what they are?”
“Yes. I read them.”
85
