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Updated: May 10, 2025
They talked on, their conversation drifting from one subject to another, and then he discovered her name was Grenville, and she that his was Delcombe, and they greeted each other anew as both hailing from lovely Devon. After that he proudly assumed the rôle of escort, and waited upon her hand and foot.
"What I know is no secret in a general sense," said Delcombe, speaking with grave deliberation; "but the facts of it were cleverly hushed up by his uncle, and you will easily understand that Major Carew would never speak of it now. My own interest in the matter is because of my regard for his father, and, I think I may say, admiration for himself.
Delcombe said thoughtfully, "I think there is no reason why I should not tell you a little more about him. I have always felt exceedingly sorry for his determined exile, and the isolation from all his old friends and old delights. I know that he dearly loved Devon, and one feels it is time now that he came back to try and pick up the threads.
"Ah!..." and Ailsa saw instantly the swift interest in her companion's eyes; a wave as of thought-telepathy that this man probably held the key to Peter Carew's past. Delcombe read in her sparkling eyes that her interest in the soldier-policeman was no casual one, but of the warmest friendship. "Did you know him before he came out here?" she ventured.
Henry Delcombe at once remarked, "There was a Major Carew at the Zimbabwe police camp, I think, when I visited the ruins, but I did not see him. I should like to have done. I understood from the young trooper there that he is some relation to the Fourtenay-Carews?" and he paused interrogatively. "It was the man I am speaking of. He is a Fourtenay-Carew."
He half turned to her, waiting silently and unmoved, with grave eyes fixed on the distance. She came a step nearer. "Mr. Delcombe told me also, that because of many changes that have taken place in the sixteen years since you cut yourself adrift from home, you are now heir to the marquisate of Toxeter. When the present marquis dies you will succeed him."
"What are you going to do?..." she asked, hoarsely. "Can you tell me where I can find Henry Delcombe?" he said. In the meantime the household at Hill Court was a restless, uneasy, depressed one. No person in it, except Meryl, seemed undisturbed by the unsatisfactory atmosphere. She by taking thought, had, contrary to the old dictum, added to her stature; but it was the stature of her mind.
It appeared in Salisbury the day after Ailsa had had her talk with Carew, and it came as a shock to both of them. It left just three weeks for action, and no more. What was to be done? Ailsa tried to get another interview with Carew at once, and found he had had to ride to some place twenty miles distant, and might not be back until the morrow. So, in distress, she sought Henry Delcombe.
What he had to tell her was faintly reassuring. Carew had gone to see him after he left Ailsa, and had asked for proofs of his heirship to the marquisate of Toxeter. Delcombe had been able to satisfy him, and he had been gravely friendly, but that was all. At last, in desperation, Ailsa decided to write to Diana. The mail left that morning, and would reach Johannesburg in three days.
Tears came into her eyes, and she turned away to hide them, and for some moments both were silent. Then Delcombe continued, "It is no wonder that he has been always reserved and silent. I suppose in a way it killed the part of him that could be anything else.
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