Free The Traitor by Sydney Horler Page B

other’s arms.
    Repentance came ten minutes later.
    â€œI ought not to have done that,” he said, as they sat together on the couch. “I ought not to be kissing you when—”
    â€œWhen—what?”
    â€œWhen I shall never be able to ask you to marry me.”
    She rippled with laughter.
    â€œMarriage! Oh, that can wait—”
    He looked at her queerly.
    â€œThe only thing that matters in this wide, wide world, my dear, darling ass, is that you’ve told me you love me. I’m crazy about you, so—” She sprang up, catching him by the arm. “Oh, Bobby, darling, isn’t the world a marvellous place? Now let’s talk about your leave.”
    His face fell.
    â€œI’ve got to go abroad, dear.”
    â€œAbroad?”
    â€œYes—Paris?”
    He seemed to be hiding something from her, and her feminine intuition became instantly alert.
    â€œParis?” she repeated. “Well, that’s all right. We ought to have a wonderful time.”
    â€œI can’t take you, Rosemary; I’ve got to go alone.”
    â€œWhy?” She flung the question red-hot at him.
    â€œI can’t tell you that, darling; I’ve just got to go alone.”
    There was a silence.
    â€œAfter what you told me just now?”
    â€œYes. You see—” But he was not allowed to finish.
    â€œI think I see too well,” she said, and flung herself out of the room.

Chapter III
    Shadows
    The pain had beaten even Cynthia Clinton’s courage, and her husband and the boy he regarded as his own son had consequently dined alone that night.
    Conversation had dealt with more or less commonplace matters until the port had circulated twice.
    Then:
    â€œWhat’s this about your spending your leave on the Continent, Bobby?” asked Clinton.
    â€œWell, governor,” was the somewhat hesitant reply, “I thought I’d like to see Paris before it’s too late.”
    â€œToo late?”
    â€œAccording to the talk in Mess down at Woolvington, war between France and Ronstadt may break out at any moment—and then Paris will be very much off the map, so far as spending any leave there is concerned, at any rate.”
    He felt rather a cur. Certainly something of a coward. It wasn’t playing the game to deceive the old boy like this. But, then, he knew very well what would happen if he told the truth: the governor would order him not to be such a damned fool.
    The prophecy was fulfilled, for this was exactly what the Colonel did the next moment.
    â€œI think it’s damned foolhardy for a British officer to go running round the Continent at a time like this. Look here, Bobby, I’m being serious now; I know far more than any one down at your Mess can hope to know—and I shouldn’t be surprised if Ronstadt declared war both on France and England at any minute. And if it does come it will come quickly. Now, if you were on the Continent.…Well, I leave it to your own imagination. The only consolation is that it will be quickly over; but while it lasts the popular conception of hell will be a fleabite compared with it.”
    The listener realised that the speaker knew what he was talking about. Colonel Clinton occupied a very prominent position in Military Intelligence, and consequently knew far more of what was going on behind the scenes than he could be allowed to pass on even to his adopted son.
    â€œWe are living on a volcano that may blow up at any moment,” continued the Intelligence officer, “and I don’t want you to be included in the débris before your time, my boy.” The face of the man with the prematurely grey hair was grave.
    â€œOh, but Paris would be all right—why, it’s only a couple of hours’ hop away.”
    â€œI’ve told you I don’t like the idea of your going on the Continent at all just now, Bobby.”
    The young officer shrugged his