"She is pretty well--but--" He hesitated.
Cyril turned quickly round. He noticed that Guy's face had lengthened perceptibly and that he toyed nervously with his eye-glass.
"What is the matter?" he inquired anxiously.
"The fact is," replied Campbell, speaking slowly and carefully avoiding the other's eye, "I think it is possible that she misses you."
"I can hardly believe it," he managed to stutter.
"Of course, Miss Trevor may be mistaken. It was her idea, not mine, that Ani--Lady Wilmersley I mean--is worrying over your absence. But whatever the cause, the fact remains that she has changed very much. She is no longer frank and cordial in her manner either to Miss Trevor or myself. It seems almost as if she regarded us both with suspicion, though what she can possibly suspect us of, I can't for the life of me imagine. That day at lunch she was gay as a child, but now she is never anything but sad and preoccupied."
"Perhaps she is beginning to remember the past," suggested Cyril.
"How can I tell? Miss Trevor and I have tried everything we could think of to induce her to confide in us, but she won't. Possibly you might be more successful--" An involuntary sigh escaped Campbell. "I am sorry now that I prevented you from seeing her. Mind you, I still think it wiser not to do so, but I ought to have left you free to use your own judgment. The number of her sitting-room is 62, on the second floor and, for some reason or other, she insists on being left there alone every afternoon from three to four. Now I have told you all I know of the situation and you must handle it as you think best."
Cyril spent the night in a state of pitiable indecision. Should he or should he not risk a visit to Anita? If the police were shadowing him, it would be fatal, but he had somehow lately acquired the conviction that they were not. On the other hand, if he could only see her, how it would simplify everything! As she distrusted both Guy and Miss Trevor, even if his plot succeeded, she would probably refuse to leave England unless he himself told her that he wished her to do so. Besides, there were so many details to be discussed, so many arrangements to be talked over. "Yes," he said to himself as he lay staring into the darkness, "it is my duty to see her. I shall go to her not because I want to...." A horrid doubt made him pause. Was he so sure that his decision was not the outcome of his own desire? How could he trust his judgment in a matter where his inclinations were so deeply involved? Yet it would be shocking if he allowed his own feelings to induce him to do something which might be injurious to Anita. It was a nice question to determine whether her need of him was sufficient to justify him in risking a visit? For hours he debated with himself but could arrive at no conclusion. No sooner did he resolve to stay away from her than the thought of her unhappiness again made him waver. If he only knew why she was so unhappy, he told himself that the situation would not be so unendurable. When he had talked to her over the telephone, she had seemed cheerful; she had spoken of Guy and Miss Trevor with enthusiasm. What could have occurred since then to make her distrust them and to plunge her into such a state of gloom? As he tossed to and fro on his hot, tumbled bed, his imagination pictured one dire possibility after another, till at last he made up his mind that he could bear the uncertainty no longer. He must see her! He would see her!