“Hullo,” said George. “Miss Kolin, this is Arthur.”
“Pleased to meet you, miss.” The tone was humbly respectful, but George could see the shrewd, insolent eyes summing her up.
Miss Kolin nodded. “Good evening.” Her hostility was clearly audible.
Arthur pursed his lips at the sound. “No trouble getting here, I hope, Mr. Carey?” he asked anxiously. He was suddenly like a week-end host apologizing for the inadequacies of the local train service.
“None to speak of. Will that old man wait for us?”
“Oh, you don’t want to worry about him. Shall we go?”
“Sure. Where to?”
“It’s not far. I’ve got transport. Just up the road here.”
He led the way. They followed in silence. About a quarter of a mile further on, the road ended again. This time the obstruction was due to a landslide from the hill above, which had obliterated a section of about fifty yards. However, a narrow track had been beaten out over the debris, and they stumbled along this cautiously until the road reappeared. That is, George and Miss Kolin stumbled; Arthur went forward as sure-footedly as if he were on a city street. He was waiting for them when they got back to the road.
“Only a little way now,” he said.