"It appears that you feel great interest in my sister, Mr. Buckler," said Marston curiously. Doubtless my question was a clumsy one, for I was never an adept at finesse; but this was the last answer which I desired to hear. "Nay, nay," I said hurriedly, and stopped at a loss, idly adding with my cane a line here and there to Countess Lukstein's diagram.
To my surprise, however, Ilga herself came to my rescue, and in a careless tone brought the matter to an issue.
"Perhaps Mr. Buckler," she remarked, "is an old friend of Lady Tracy's."
I raised my eyes from the Countess, fixing them upon Marston to note how he took the thrust, and with a quick sweep of her stick she smoothed the gravel, obliterating the lines. That I expected to see Marston disconcerted and in a pother to evade the question, I need not say, and 'twas with an amazement which fell little short of stupefaction that I heard him answer forthwith in a brusque, curt tone.
"That can hardly be. For my sister has been abroad all this year, and Mr. Buckler in the same case until this year."
I turned to Ilga. But she seemed more interested in Lady Tracy than in the fact of the admission.
"Ah! Lady Tracy was abroad," she said. "When did she leave England?"
"In September."
"The very month that I returned," I exclaimed triumphantly.
The Countess turned quickly towards me. "I fancied you only returned this spring."