“Why revisit him, after all?” said Davies.
“But don’t you see what a hideous fix you’ve put me in? How caddish I feel about it?”
I did see, and I felt a cad myself, as his full distress came home to me. But I felt, too, that, whosesoever the fault, we had drifted into a ridiculous situation, and were like characters in one of those tiresome plays where misunderstandings are manufactured and so carefully sustained that the audience are too bored to wait for the _dénouement._ You can do that on the stage; but we wanted our _dénouement._
“I’m very sorry,” I said, “but I wish you had told me all about it. Won’t you now? Just the bare, matter-of-fact truth. I hate sentiment, and so do you.”
“I find it very difficult to tell people things,” said Davies, “things like this.” I waited. “I did like her—very much.” Our eyes met for a second, in which all was said that need be said, as between two of our phlegmatic race. “And she’s—separate from him. That was the reason of all my indecisions.” he hurried on. “I only told you half at Schlei. I know I ought to have been open, and asked your advice. But I let it slide. I’ve been hoping all along that we might find what we want and win the game without coming to close quarters again.”
I no longer wondered at his devotion to the channel theory, since, built on conviction, it was thus doubly fortified.
“Yet you always knew what might happen,” I said. “At Schlei you spoke of ‘settling with’ Dollmann.”
“I know. When I thought of him I was mad. I made myself forget the other part.”
“Which recurred at Brunsbüttel?” I thought of the news we had there.
“Davies, we must have no more secrets. I’m going to speak out. Are you sure you’ve not misunderstood her? You say—and I’m willing to assume it—that Dollmann’s a traitor and a murderer.”
“Oh, hang the murder part!” said Davies, impatiently. “What does _that_ matter?”
“Well, traitor. Very good; but in that case I suspect his daughter. No! let me go on. She was useful, to say the least. She encouraged you—you’ve told me that—to make that passage with them.”
“Stop, Carruthers,” said Davies, firmly. “I know you mean kindly; but it’s no use. I believe in her.”
“In that case,” I said, “I’ve something to propose. When we get out of this place let’s sail straight away to England.” “(There, Commander von Brüning,” I thought, “you never can say I neglected your advice.”)