“You’ll think it wild of me to associate the coming of this peddler with Millicent’s murder, but I do. I want to keep him here a few days if I can. There’s something, I don’t know what, in the air; but the thing that brought him is probably what brought Martin. I’ll talk with him later on. Would you like to go up to town for a few days?”
“Why?” she asked, puzzled.
“I’ve been thinking it’s rather unfeeling of me to expect you to be here at present under the circumstances. A good many women would not like it.”
Edith smiled and shook her head. “My dear, I can’t take it as seriously as you do, and I’m not nervous. Do anything you like that you believe will bring you nearer Jean. Be as mysterious and occult as you please. It won’t worry me a bit. But the house must be looked after, and that’s for me. I hope this won’t upset Perkins, as things are going very smoothly in her domain, and don’t forget that it will imperil next year’s roses if you demoralize Martin. Now it’s time for lunch.”
CHAPTER VII
A MYSTERIOUS PEDDLER
HE WENT to the Millicents’ that afternoon, the bangle in his pocket, and found Jean unaffectedly glad to see him. Mrs. Millicent had said nothing to her daughter, but her manner had been that of one who approves. She liked Derrick and had conceived a genuine fondness for Edith. The contemplated summer in France was becoming a little indefinite. In a few moments she murmured something and disappeared. Derrick thought rapidly and looked straight into the girl’s clear eyes. Then he held out the bangle.
“Will you take this from me? It has a curious something about it.”
Jean hesitated, the look on his face being unmistakable. “It’s charming. Where did you get it?”
“From Burma,” he said slowly. “It arrived this morning by a peddler who is staying the night with Martin. He seemed grateful for my allowing it and insisted that I take this from his pack.”
She stared at the yellow circlet. “Does he know Martin?”