Milton Harrington wanted to look at the sugar canes which grew in profusion. So we drove out of the town.
He talked knowledgeably and told us a great deal about the production of sugar and how the juice from the plants was distilled in mills and boiling houses. He made me feel that I wanted to see his island.
"The canes were brought here from Sicily, Cyprus and Crete during the fifteenth century and at that time became the main industry of the island. Nowadays it is the wine for which they are famous. Who has not heard of Madeira wine? I tell you what, Miss Cartwright, I am going to be very daring. May I?"
"Oh Mr. Harrington," replied Miss Cartwright with a little laugh, "if you insist, how could / stop you?"
"I would obey your instructions, of course. But I was going to say that I have a good friend here. He has a wine cellar. He would like to show you how his wine is made and preserved. He might even invite you to try a glass."
"Oh dear, Mr. Harrington, that sounds almost improper."
"You have your protector here, Miss Cartwright, and nothing to fear."
So we left our bullock cart outside the wine lodge and went into the cellar where we were greeted by a swarthy man in a big leather apron who talked in Portuguese at a great speed. Every now and then he would break into broken English. He was clearly pleased to see Milton Harrington.
When we had made a tour of the cellars we were invited to sit down on stools which were in the shape of barrels. These were placed at a round table and glasses of Madeira wine were brought to us.
We declared it delicious. Perhaps it was the effect of the wine but Felicity became quite talkative. She was obviously enjoying the outing. She said she was quite taken with the island and would like to spend some time here.
"Ah, but that would delay your arrival in Australia," Milton Harrington pointed out. "I am sure you are all eagerness to get there."
The moment's hesitation told me—and, I was sure, Milton Harrington—a good deal. I knew now what Felicity's secret was. She was a very frightened young woman and now that she was getting nearer to her new life she was beginning to wonder whether she had made a mistake.
"Oh yes... yes, of course," she said, too vehemently for conviction. But I could not forget the stricken look in her eyes.
"Where is the property?" asked Milton Harrington.
"It's a few miles out of Sydney."
"What is the name of it? Perhaps I know it."
"Granville's. That is the name of my fiance. The place is named after him."
"William Granville?" Milton Harrington spoke rather bleakly.
"Yes. I am going out to him."
"Do you know him?" I asked quickly.
"You might say I am on nodding acquaintance. I call in at Sydney on average about once a month. In the hotel there one meets up with graziers and people from around. I have met him."
"What a strange coincidence," cried Miss Cartwright.
"It is not really," Milton Harrington told her. "You see it is not like London. In fact the population of Australia can't come anywhere near that of London, nor Birmingham and Manchester ... or any of the big cities. It's sparsely populated. People come in from miles round and congregate in one hotel. It is not so strange that one comes across people."
"No, of course not," I said.
But I began to feel uneasy.
Miss Cartwright was persuaded to try a second glass of wine and after that she began to laugh a great deal.
We went back to the bullock cart and to the ship.
My uneasiness persisted. I was sure that Milton Harrington knew something about William Granville and that he had been somewhat reticent in the wine lodge because what he knew was unpleasant.
I determined that when I was alone with him I would ask him outright. It was better to know the worst. I was beginning to feel rather protective towards Felicity. It was that quality of helplessness in her which made me want to look after her and I felt that if there was something which was not quite what we expected we should know about it.
It was not difficult to waylay him and I did so.
I said: "I should like to speak to you ... somewhere where we can be alone."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and said: "I shall, of course, be delighted."
We found a secluded spot on the deck and sat down.
"It was not exactly what you said but the way in which you said it," I began. "I am referring to the conversation in the wine lodge when William Granville's name was mentioned. You know something about him, don't you?"
"I know a little of him."
"What do you know?"
"That he has a property not far from Sydney."
"We all know that. What do you know especially about him?"
"What do you want? Height? Colour of eyes? Hair?"
"You are being flippant. Miss Derring is going out to marry him. If there is anything wrong, I think we ought to be prepared. Please tell me."
"What would you do about anything that you considered wrong?"
"I could break it to her. We could decide ..."
"One is always wary of giving an opinion of another person. One could be quite wrong."
"Why did you say then ... ?"
"My dear Miss Annalice, I said nothing."
"No, you didn't. But you implied. You know him, but you seem to be holding something back ... something that you did not talk about."
"I don't know the man very well personally. I have only heard gossip... comment. People talk about each other in small communities and not always charitably."
"Will you stop beating about the bush and tell me frankly what these rumours are?"
"Nothing much. He is a good deal older than Miss Derring."
"She knows that. Sometimes marriages are quite successful when there is a disparity in ages. It is more than that, isn't it?"
"You are so persistent. I'll tell you that I heard he takes too much drink. People do, you know, in these lonely places."
"I see. And that was what made you act as you did?"
"I was not aware of any acting."
"It was your silence which said so much."
"I'm sorry if I caused Miss Derring anxiety."
"She didn't notice. But she does seem to be a little uncertain. I wish she would confide in me. I might be able to help."
"She knew him in England."
"Yes, when he came over looking for a wife."
"Well, she agreed to marry him. She was not forced into it."
"I feel quite anxious about her."
He put his hand over mine.
"You're very nice," he said.
I withdrew it at once.
"What else do you know about him?"
He shrugged his shoulders but he would say no more. Yet he gave me the impression that he knew something and was holding it back.
I rose and he was beside me. "Would you like to take a turn round the deck or join me in an aperitif?"
"No, thank you. I am going back to my cabin."
He had done nothing to diminish my uneasiness. Rather had he increased it.
After we left Madeira we ran into bad weather again. Felicity seemed to be much better able to cope with conditions than she had before. But Miss Cartwright was very ill. She was confined to bed for two days and after that, when the sea was calm, she was very weak and continued to be ill.
We were now in warm waters, along the west coast of Africa and it was very pleasant to sit on deck. Miss Cartwright came up and sat in a deck chair, but she looked very wan and Felicity confided in me that she was very worried about her.
"I am sure nothing would have induced her to come—not even her duty towards me—if she had known how rough seas would affect her," she said. "If we have another bout of bad weather I shall really fear for her."
She did not stay long on deck and wished to retire to her cabin. Felicity and I took her down and would have stayed with her, but she wanted to sleep if possible.