"What are you talking about?" Cotter stammered.
"Oh, you know--perfectly well," Jansen sneered. "Take my advice. Leave the sinking ship and throw in your lot with me. But make no error; keep nothing from me, for I know everything. Strange that with your knowledge of the world you should cling to Samuel Flower when his life is not worth an hour's purchase. Think it over, my good Cotter. I am not coming to Maldon Grange but I will not be far away. I find the country good for my health and have rooms at that farmhouse down the road. It may be that I shall do nothing for a fortnight. It may be that I shall strike at once. It is for you to say whether you will be on the winning side or not. But I waste my time with you. Why should I worry over a creature like you? You are not worth it."
Jansen turned away with a contemptuous gesture and picked up his portmanteau. Without another word he trudged sturdily along the path until he was lost to sight. Cotter watched him till the stout figure disappeared. Then he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face.
"Good Lord!" he muttered. "Fancy seeing him again! And I thought--goodness knows what I thought. This is no place for me. I'll get away while I can."
Wilfrid stole back to the path and walked towards the house. He had plenty of food for thought and the more he gave his mind to the strange affair the more bewildered he became. One thing was clear. He could not see this plot through to a finish single-handed. He must get into touch with Uzali and Russell. He must induce them to come down and investigate matters on the spot. For the present, however, he would keep his discovery to himself. He would not alarm Beatrice.
The house was perfectly peaceful. There was silence in the sick-room. The nurse was of opinion that his patient was progressing favourably. Dr. Shelton had called in Wilfrid's absence and had left, not displeased with the case. Wilfrid could but wait and hope for the best. It was a consolation to know that Beatrice was there and that no one could come between them and their friendship. Beatrice listened gravely to the result of Wilfrid's interview with Vardon.
"Do you think you have acted for the best?" she said. "I am sorry I misjudged you, Wilfrid. I might have known you would do the right thing in any case."