She was dressed with quiet but elegant simplicity.
The perfume of the violets at her waistband seemed to remind him
of his return to civilization.
"Well, I'll take my risks of that, Miss Morse," he declared. "If
you'll only let me know what I can do for you--"
"It's about poor Mr. Hamilton Fynes," she explained. "I took up
the evening paper only half an hour ago, and read your interview
with the reporter. I simply couldn't help stopping to ask whether
you could give me any further particulars about that horrible
affair. I didn't dare to come here all alone, so I asked Sir
Charles to come along with me."
Mr. Coulson, being invited to do so, seated himself on the lounge
by the young lady's side. He leaned a little forward with a hand
on either knee.
"I don't exactly know what I can tell you," he remarked. "I take
it, then, that you were well acquainted with Mr. Fynes?"
"I used to know him quite well," Penelope answered, "and
naturally I am very much upset. When I read in the paper an
account of your interview with the reporter, I could see at once
that you were not telling him everything. Why should you, indeed?
A man does not want every detail of his life set out in the
newspapers just because he has become connected with a terrible
tragedy."
"You're a very sensible young lady, Miss Morse, if you will allow
me to say so," Mr. Coulson declared. "You were expecting to see
something of Mr. Fynes over here, then?"
"I had an appointment to lunch with him today," she answered.
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