He even found a subject of amusement in his sense of helplessness during the first days of his blindness; and Ethne's apprehensions rapidly diminished.

They had indeed almost vanished from her mind when something in his attitude suddenly brought them back.
"I wrote to you from Wadi Halfa," he said.

"I don't know whether you could read the letter." "Quite well," said Ethne.
"I got a friend of mine to hold the paper and tell me when I was writing on it or merely on the blotting-pad," he continued with a laugh.
"Calder--of the Sappers--but you don't know him." He shot the name out rather quickly, and it came upon Ethne with a shock that he had set a trap to catch her.

The curious stillness of his face seemed to tell her that he was listening with an extreme intentness for some start, perhaps even a checked exclamation, which would betray that she knew something of Calder of the Sappers.

Did he suspect, she asked herself?
Did he know of the telegram?
Did he guess that her letter was sent out of pity?
She looked into Durrance's face, and it told her nothing except that it was very alert.