"No need for us to fence," he said. "You and I know who he is.
What I do want to know, what I have been wondering all the way from the point there - four miles of hard galloping and one question - why are you his friend? What is he to you?"
"Really, Captain Griffiths," she protested, looking up at him, "of what possible interest can that be to you?"
"Well, it is, anyhow," he answered gruffly. "Anything that concerns you is of interest to me."
Philippa realised at that moment, perhaps for the first time, what it all meant. She realised the significance of those apparently purposeless afternoon calls, when through sheer boredom she had had to send for Helen to help her out; the significance of those long silences, the melancholy eyes which seemed to follow her movements.
She felt an unaccountable desire to laugh, and then, at the first twitchings of her lips, she restrained herself. She knew that tragedy was stalking by her side.
"I think, Captain Griffiths," she said gravely, "that you are talking nonsense, and you are not a very good hand at it. Won't you please ride on?"
He made no movement to mount his horse. He plodded along the soft sand by her side - a queer, elongated figure, his gloomy eyes fixed upon the ground.
"Until this fellow Lessingham came you were never so hard," he persisted.
She looked at him with genuine curiosity.
"I was never so hard?" she repeated. "Do you imagine that I have ever for a single moment considered my demeanour towards you - you of all persons in the world? I simply don't remember when you have been there and when you haven't. I don't remember the humours in which I have been when we have conversed. All that you have said seems to me to be the most arrant nonsense."
He swung himself into the saddle and gathered up the reins.
"Thank you," he said bitterly, "I understand. Only let me tell you this," he went on, his whip poised in his hand. "You may have powerful friends who saved your - "
He hesitated so long that she glanced up at him and read all that he had wished to say in his face.
"My what?" she asked.
His courage failed him.
"Mr. Lessingham," he proceeded, "from arrest. But if he shows his face here again in Dreymarsh, I sha'n't stop to arrest him. I shall shoot him on sight and chance the consequences."
"They'll hang you!" she declared savagely.
He laughed at her.
"Hang me for shooting a man whom I can prove to be a German spy?
They won't dare! They won't even dare to place me under arrest for an hour. Why, when the truth becomes known," he went on, his voice gaining courage as the justice of his case impressed itself upon him, "what do you suppose is going to happen to two women who took this fellow in and befriended him, introduced him under a false name to their friends, gave him the run of their house - this man whom they knew all the time was a German? You, Lady Cranston, chafing and scolding your husband by night and by day because he isn't where you think he ought to be; you, so patriotic that you cannot bear the sight of him out of uniform; you - the hostess, the befriender, the God knows what of Bertram Maderstrom! It will be a pretty tale when it's all told!"
"I really think," Philippa asserted calmly, "that you are the most utterly impossible and obnoxious creature I have ever met."
His face was dangerous for a moment. They had not yet reached the promontory which sheltered them from Dreymarsh.
"Perhaps," he muttered, leaning malignly towards her, "I could make myself even more obnoxious."
"Quite possibly," she replied, "only I want to tell you this. If you come a single inch nearer to me, one of them shall shoot you."
"Your friend or your husband, eh? "he scoffed.
She waved him on.
"I think," she told him, "that either of them would be quite capable of ridding the world of a coward like you."
"A coward?" he repeated.
"Precisely! Isn't it a coward's part to terrorise a woman?"
"I don't want to terrorise you," he said sulkily.
"Well, you must admit that you haven't shown any particular desire to make yourself agreeable," she pointed out.
He turned suddenly upon her.
"I am a fool, I know," he declared bitterly. "I'm an awkward, nervous, miserable fool, my own worst enemy as they say of me in the Mess, turning the people against me I want to have like me, stumbling into every blunder a fool can. I'm the sort of man women make sport of, and you've done it for them cruelly, perfectly."
"Captain Griffiths!" she protested. "When have I ever been anything but kind and courteous to you?"
"It isn't your kindness I want, nor your courtesy! There's a curse upon my tongue," he went on desperately. "I'm not like other men.
I don't know how to say what I feel. I can't put it into words.
Every one misunderstands me. You, too! Here I rode up to you this afternoon and my heart was beating for joy, and in five minutes I had made an enemy of you. Damn that fellow Lessingham! It is all his fault!"
Without the slightest warning he brought down his hunting crop upon his horse's flanks. The mare gave one great plunge, and he was off, riding at a furious gallop. Philippa watched him with immense relief, In the far distance she could see two little specks growing larger and larger. She hurried on towards them.
"Whatever did you do to Captain Griffiths, Mummy? Nora demanded.
"Why he passed us without looking down, galloping like a madman, and his face looked - well, what did it look like, Helen?"
Helen was gazing uneasily along the sands.
"Like a man riding for his enemy," she declared.
