I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth.
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