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There was so much sincerity in Coryndon's tone that Hartley was satisfied, and he saw him into his room before he went off, whistling to his dog and calling out a cheery "Good night." When Coryndon made up his mind to any particular course of action and time pressed, he left nothing to chance.
Hartley flushed angrily, and he was about to speak when Coryndon's man came into the room, salaaming on the threshold, carrying a black tin. "Would you like a little stroll in the garden?" said Coryndon. "It would be pleasant before we sit down," and Hartley followed him out. "Did you bring any cigars down?"
She was dressed in the latest fashion, and talked with a kind of regal amiability, but nevertheless, she was not a real woman, a real hostess, or a positive entity; she was vague, and the touch of her floating personality added to the baffled sensation that drained Coryndon's mind of concentrated force, and made him physically exhausted.
Coryndon's face showed his tense, close interest as the clergyman spoke again. "I was standing there for some time, how long I do not know, when I saw that I was not alone, and that I was being watched by a Chinaman. I knew the boy by sight, and must have seen him before somewhere else.
As Wesley declared the whole world to be his parish, so the whole of Asia was Coryndon's sphere of action, and only at Headquarters was it ever known where he actually might be found, or what employment occupied his brain. He came like a rain-cloud blown up soundlessly on the east wind, and vanished like morning mists, and no one knew what he had learnt during his silent passing.
"And the date?" Coryndon's eyes were turned on Hartley's face, and he heard him laugh. "You'll hardly believe it, but it happened, like everything else, on the twenty-ninth of July." "Can your boy look after me for a few days?" Coryndon asked quietly. "I was not able to bring my bearer with me, and I may have to be here for a little longer than I had expected." "Of course he can."
Heath put the question tentatively, conscious of a sudden quick tension in the atmosphere. Coryndon's eyes fixed on him, like gripping hands, and he leaned a little over the table. "You can tell me how and when you got Rydal out of the country."
Hartley and Coryndon sat long over their breakfast. Coryndon's face was strained and tired, and heavy lines of fatigue were marked under his dark eyes. "The boy was not in a condition to give any lucid explanation when I brought him back," said Hartley, "so I left him until we could both hear his story together." He called to his Bearer and gave instructions for the boy to be brought in.
Coryndon's heart beat so loud that he feared its sound might be heard across the narrow street, and he gripped his hands together. The curio shop was no longer dark, for someone had come in with a lamp; Coryndon crept forward, his eyes on the Chinaman, who had slipped back on to the ground and had raced up the steps, beating against the door violently.
Then he lied to me when I went to the house, and there is Atkins' testimony to the fact that he is paying a man to keep quiet." "Has the man reappeared since?" "Not since I had the house watched." Coryndon's eyes narrowed and he moved his hands slightly. "Next there is the very trifling evidence of Mrs. Wilder.
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