“Not so much a message as a—a suggestion,” Brock answered, with a hesitation so short as to escape the Englishman’s ear. “Miss Howard and the Lady are going to market, this morning, and I gathered, from what Miss Howard said, that she would like you to be on hand.”
“To—market?”
“Yes. She evidently thought you understood it was an engagement. The only question seemed to be about the hour.”
“Oh. What time do they go?”
“Ten.”
“And now?”
“It is past nine now.”
Barth stepped to the table and glanced at his watch.
“Fifteen past nine,” he read. “There is plenty of time. And you are sure Miss Howard wanted me?”
“Perfectly,” Brock answered, with brazen mendacity.