"By all means," responded Parkson, showing himself indulgent to feminine curiosity.
She tripped across the yard, and peered into the half darkness of the bakehouse. She was carrying out her instructions, which were to find out what had become of Sims, but even the astuteness of Dacent Smith himself at this moment would have failed to detect guile in the girlish innocence of her expression as she looked into the face of the red-haired Scotch baker who had succeeded Sims. She examined the great tray of newly-baked loaves, uttered feminine exclamations of astonishment and admiration at all she saw, and finally smiled sweetly into the face of the dour Scotch corporal.
"I suppose you have been here ages and ages, Mr. Lyle?"
"No, madam, it's no more than a month since I came."
Parkson, who had listened good-humouredly, awaited her at the door, and as they crossed the asphalt together Mrs. Monmouth questioned him as to the baker who had preceded Lyle. She put her questions deftly, in a manner that would arouse no suspicion.
"Oh, no, Sims isn't at the front." He looked at her for a moment with fleeting doubt in his gaze, and decided to say no more about Sims. But Mrs. Monmouth's keen eyes interpreted his expression of reserve. He knew something. She smiled inwardly. What he knew she, too, would know.
"I am afraid we must stop here," Parkson suddenly said, "I am not allowed to take anyone beyond this barbed wire."
"Do you never allow visitors to go there?"
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth turned her resplendent countenance upon him. There was a vivid colour in her cheeks; the rich curve of her lips glowed scarlet.
"How wonderful it all is--and, I suppose," she went on, looking at him with what he and any other man would have believed to be admiration, "you are watching and waiting, all day and all night--waiting for the enemy?"
"Something of the sort," answered Parkson wearily. "You never know; he may come any time."
They were at the top of the steps which led to the lower fort, the superb panorama of Alum Bay, the Ponsonby Lighthouse and the English coast lay at their feet.
"I can't say that we expect him any longer," answered Parkson, naturally, "but we live in hope!"
"I expect it's capable of doing its bit," Parkson answered judicially.