"I will not
interrupt."
"It sounds foolish," Tavernake declared, "because I know so
little, but it seems that your sister is being annoyed by a man
named Pritchard, an American detective. She tells me that he
suspects her of being concerned in some way with the
disappearance of her husband. One of his reasons is that you
left her abruptly and went into hiding, that you will not see or
speak to her. She wishes you to be reconciled."
"Is that all?" Beatrice asked.
"It is all," he replied, "so long as you understand its
significance. If you go to see your sister, or let her come to
see you, this man Pritchard will have one of his causes for
suspicion removed."
"So you came as Elizabeth's ambassador," Beatrice said, half as
though to herself. "Well, here is my answer. I will not go to
Elizabeth. If she finds out my whereabouts and comes here, then
I shall go away again and hide. I shall never willingly exchange
another word with her as long as I live."
Tavernake looked at her doubtfully.
"But she is your sister!" he explained.
"She is my sister," Beatrice repeated, "and yet what I have said
to you I mean."
There was a short silence. Tavernake felt unaccountably ill at
ease. Something had sprung up between them which he did not
understand. He was swift to recognize, however, the note of
absolute finality in her tone.
"I have given my message," he declared. "I shall tell her what
you say. Perhaps I had better go now.
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