He was going so soon, too, and she had so much, so very much, to say.
In his answering look was amused amazement. "Oh, I mustn't, eh? And why mustn't I?"
"Do I have to tell you?" But her eyes were turned away.
"Have--have you forgotten--everything?" And still she did not face him.
He turned sidewise and laid his left arm along the mantel-shelf to rest his injured hand.
"Most things," he answered, "thank God!" And when she did not speak he added: "You set me so fine an example in expeditious forgetting, remember, I had to profit by it."
"For one who never forgot, you managed to mess things up a great deal, it seems to me."
"I think I was mad," she admitted, her eyes on the floor.
"I doubt if you were ever anything else," he told her bluntly. "And a man's a fool to trust a mad woman."
"Oh, I'm sane now," Nina told him. "Quite, quite sane. And I was hoping--" She paused, uncertain of her phrasing.
"That you might help me to put things straight," she finished.
He was not altogether sure of her meaning, but he chose to put upon it the worst possible construction.
"Why not let your friend of last night assist?" he asked coolly. "He seems rather expert with firearms. Mistakes are so easy, you know. He could shoot at the bronze cobra again, for instance, and aim a little high."
"You never used to be so bitter," she said. "You can't think what you're saying."
"I've fed on bitterness. I always think the worst, and I'm usually justified. I can't see any way to undo your tangle except by murder!"
Nina shivered, and Kneedrock saw it; but she said nothing.
"I'm glad you didn't pretend to be shocked," he told her. "Only as a rule you're not very keen on quick deaths. You prefer the cat-and-mouse process. You like to play with your victim before adding the final finishing stroke."
But he made no answer. He moved over to the sofa where lay his hat and walking-stick and took them up.
"Better wait until I'm out of India," he went on cynically. "I might be brought back to testify, and that would be awkward."
"You're going now?" she asked distressfully.
"Only to the hotel. I can't sail until the twenty-seventh. Would you mind waiting until after the first?"
"But you haven't told me a thing," she deplored, ignoring his cruel implication. "Where have you been all the years? What have you been doing? Why have you hidden yourself? There is so much I want to know."