The Canadian lines were
cheap. If Jimmy lived perhaps he could take him along: if not--
He would have to put six months' work in the next three. That was
not so hard. He had got along before with less sleep, and thrived
on it. Also there must be no more idle evenings, with Jimmy in
the salon propped in a chair and Harmony playing, the room dark
save for the glow from the stove and for the one candle at
Harmony's elbow.
All roads lead to Rome. Peter's thoughts, having traveled in a
circle, were back again to Harmony the Desirable--Harmony playing
in the firelight, Harmony Hushed over the brick stove, Harmony
paring potatoes that night in the kitchen when he--Harmony!
Harmony!
Stewart knew all about the accident and its cause. Peter had
surmised as much when the injured man failed to ask for Marie.
He tested him finally by bringing Marie's name into the
conversation. Stewart ignored it, accepted her absence, refused
to be drawn.
That was at first. During the day, however, as he gained
strength, he grew restless and uneasy. As the time approached for
Peter to leave, he was clearly struggling with himself. The
landlady had agreed to care for him and was bustling about the
room. During one of her absences he turned to Peter.
"I suppose Marie hasn't been round?"
"She came back last night."
"Did she tell you?"
"Yes, poor child."
"She's a devil!" Stewart said, and lay silent. Then: "I saw her
shoot that thing out in front of us, but there was no time--Where
is she now?"
"Marie? I sent her to Vienna.
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