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Updated: July 2, 2025
His preoccupation in this search if it was a search was so great that he never once glanced ahead, and he did not see Charles until the young man leaped down the last few paces of his slippery descent and stood plainly forth before him. Thalassa's brown face did not move a muscle as he looked at him. "Thalassa," said Charles sternly, "I have been looking for you."
A faint hope died in Charles's breast. Even the drunken irregularity of a Cornish cabman told against Sisily. But that point was not so immediately important as Thalassa's story that the murder had been committed during his absence from Flint House.
The relation of Thalassa's story to Barrant had carried with it the inevitable admission that Sisily was at Flint House on the night of her father's death. The point Charles had to decide was whether he should divulge the additional information that he had seen her leave Flint House with Thalassa on that night.
"What do you want to know?" "Was your master's daughter here in the house, I mean on the night of his death?" Thalassa's face hardened. "You, too?" he said simply. "I say again, as I said before, that she was not." "You said so," rejoined Mr. Brimsdown softly. "The question is are you telling the truth?
With women especially, the jump from an impression to a conclusion was sometimes as rapid as the thought itself. "Did you see his face?" he asked. "Only the eyes. But I am sure that they were Thalassa's eyes." Barrant did not press the point. He did not doubt the honesty of her belief, but the words in which it was conveyed suggested hasty impression rather than conviction.
Charles cut the quarrel short by flinging out of the house in the rain, to carry out his intention of interviewing his uncle. He walked across the moors to Flint House. The front door was open, the downstairs portion of the house in darkness, and his uncle lying upstairs in his study dead. He hurried over all this as of small importance in the deeper significance of Thalassa's story.
It was like questioning a head on an old Roman coin, so expressionless was Thalassa's face as he delivered himself of these replies. But the lawyer had the feeling that Thalassa was deriving a certain grim satisfaction from his questioner's perplexity, and he dismissed him somewhat angrily.
After the first surprise at his interruption they heard him in silence, and then plied him with questions. Where were these diamonds? In a volcanic island in the South Pacific. Where about? They couldn't expect him to tell them that. Thalassa's reply was that they were buried in a big box, and the island was out of the run of ships. What sort of a big box? Turold had asked.
Barrant was reminded of the flight of time. It would be as well to remove Charles before Thalassa returned. Time enough for Thalassa's story later! At that moment it seemed to Barrant that the final solution of the mystery was almost in his hands. Mrs. Thalassa had been wiser than he. The single game of patience suggested the solution of the problem of the time. It did more than that.
You're a wicked girl, Miss Sisily, and I won't let you in. You killed your father, and you'd like to kill me, but I'll keep you locked out. Go away!" Her voice rose to a screech. The blood rushed to Thalassa's head as he listened to these words. He understood quite suddenly this was not a demented raving. Sisily had been there she had come back to him in her fear and she had been driven away.
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