“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth, involuntarily.
It was a name world-famous in science and literature.
“Yes, the Roger North! It is quite all right. People always say ‘Oh,’ like that when I introduce myself. And you are the new owner of Thorpe.”
“I am that enormously lucky person,” said Ruth. “Do come in, won’t you? And won’t you have some tea—or something? That sounds rather vague, but I haven’t a notion as to time.”
“Capital! Is that a usual habit of yours, or only this once?” asked this somewhat strange person who was the Roger North. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but most people seem to spend their days wondering what time it is! And I can drink tea at any moment, thanks very much. Take care of the car, Larry.”
Larry jumped on the seat, stretched himself at full length and became a dog of stone.
“The car belonged to his master,” explained Roger North, as they went up the garden path. “Larry and the car both came to me when he went to France, and though the old dog has often run over here and had a hunt round, this is the first time he has not come straight back to me.”
“He arrived here about six o’clock last evening,” said Ruth. “He hunted everywhere, as you say, and then lay down and watched. I gather he spent the night in the spare room, but this morning he had disappeared, and I only found him again half an hour ago down by the stream. Quite happy apparently with a man. I don’t know who the man is. He was lying by the stream watching some kingfishers, and then your car startled us all, and I can’t think where he disappeared to.”
North shook his head.
“I don’t know who it could have been. All the men Larry knew here left long ago, and he doesn’t make friends readily.”