"I'm eating a farewell dinner every night till I sail," he said. Then, sinking his voice, he added, "You know the yacht--she's roomy, and there will be only my two aide-de-camps and myself. No one will be seeing me off, because I haven't told them when I'm sailing. It's the usual route--anywhere in the Mediterranean. But I can't sail before Friday week."
"I see. Well," I held out my hand, "if I _don't_ see you again, I'll say good-bye."
"Good-bye. Best of luck!" he answered, and waved a hand as I walked back and rejoined the Seraph in the hall.
He was so white that I expected every moment to see him faint, and his clothes were wet with perspiration. I, who am not so fine-drawn, had found the last hour a little trying.
"You're going to bed in decent time to-night," I told him. "I'm going to see Nurse, and find out if she knows of any one she can trust to come and help her. And I'm going to keep you out of the sick-room at the point of a bayonet if you've got one."
I had expected a protest, but none came. He sat with closed eyes, resting his head on his hand.
"I suppose that will be best," he assented at last.
"And now you're coming to get something to eat," I said, leading him into the dining-room.
"But you're going to eat a great deal," I said, pushing him into his chair and selecting a serviceable, sharp-pronged pickle-fork.
After luncheon I had my usual siesta, prolonged rather beyond my usual hour. It was five o'clock when I awoke, and I found the Seraph playing with a sheet of paper. He had written "Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday" on it, and after "Monday," "12.0 P.M."
"If we can get Joyce well enough to move away from Nigel's damned cordon of police," I said, "and if we can hide her somewhere till Friday week, friend Gartside's yacht is going to solve a good many problems."
"It's not going to find Sylvia," he answered.
"I don't know how that's going to be managed," I said.
We sat without speaking until dinner-time, and ate a silent dinner. At eleven o'clock he left the room, changed out of his dress clothes into a tweed suit, and put on a hat and brown walking boots.
"Where are you off to?" I asked when he came back.
The expression in his eyes convinced me--if I wanted any convincing--that the strain of the last few days had proved too much for him.