"Have you talked to him since the inquest?"
"He got two telegrams to-day. They seemed to go mighty hard with him. I was wondering--whether you ought to go to him now."
A little line came between her straight brows. "I can't imagine what they could be----" she said.
"The loss of some friend? Financial loss, perhaps----?"
"I don't know. The latter, if anything. For I do know he's been buying certain stocks--awfully heavy."
"I don't think I should have told you that. But I know you won't say anything about it. Oh, I do hope he hasn't had any real misfortune----"
Our talk veered to other subjects, and for a while we stood and watched the twilight descending over the lagoon. The crags were never so mysterious. They seemed to take weird shapes in the half-light, and the water sucked and lapped about their stony feet.
In a little while her hand stole into mine. It rested softly, and neither of us felt the need of words. The twilight deepened into that pale darkness of the early Floridan night.
"How I'd like to help him, if he's in trouble," she said at last, almost whispering. "And how I'd like to help you--do all the things you want to do."
"I'm glad--that you care about it," I told her, not daring to look down into that sober, wistful face.
"I _do_ care about it," she declared. She bent, until her lips were close to my ear. "And I believe I see the way."
Nealman did not come down to dinner. He sent his apologies to the guests, pleading a headache, and through some mayhap of circumstance the coroner took his place at the head of the great, red-mahogany table. There was a grim symbolism in the thing. No one mentioned it, not one of those aristocratic sportsmen were calloused enough to jest about it, but we all felt it in the secret places of our souls.
The session at Kastle Krags was no longer one of revelry. I could fancy the wit, the repartee, the gaiety and laughter that had reigned over the board the evening previous; but Nealman's guests were a sober group to-night. At the unspoken dictates of good taste no man talked of last night's tragedy. Rather the men talked quietly to one another or else sat in silence. A burly negro, rigged out in a dinner coat of ancient vintage, helped with the serving in Florey's place.
