“I’ve only got to walk into the bar at the Crown and ask the nearest loafer, if you don’t wish to tell me,” Roger pointed out with an air of indifference.
“That is true. Yes, that is very true, I’m afraid. Yes, I fear you have. Well, perhaps in that case⸺ Well, they are talking about Miss Cross, you know; Mrs. Vane’s cousin. Most regrettable; most regrettable! Surely you don’t think, Mr. Sheringham, that⸺”
“I agree with you,” Roger interrupted brusquely, forestalling the unwelcome question. “Most regrettable! But surely you, as their vicar, could⸺?” He broke off meaningly.
The little clergyman looked at him in surprise. “Me?” he said innocently. “Oh, but you are making a mistake. I am not the vicar here. Oh, dear, no! Meadows, my name is: Samuel Meadows. Wait a moment; I have a card somewhere.” He began to fumble violently in all his pockets. “Oh, dear, no; I am not the vicar. I have retired into private life. A small legacy, you understand. Just a resident here, that is all; and of only a few weeks’ standing. Oh, dear, no; my parish was in Yorkshire. But Ludmouth is so— Ah, here we are!” With an air of mild triumph he produced a card from the pocket which he had first searched, and held it out to Roger. “Perhaps if you were passing one day—? I should be extremely honoured.”
“Very kind of you indeed,” said Roger politely, his interest in the little cleric now completely evaporated. He struggled to his feet. “Well, I must be getting along.”
“You are going back to Ludmouth?” queried the other with gentle eagerness, rising also. “So am I. We might perhaps walk in together.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going the other way,” returned Roger firmly. “Good morning, Mr. Meadows. See you again soon, I expect.” And he set briskly off in the direction of Sandsea.
Behind the first undulation he took cover and watched his late interlocutor make for the road and pass slowly out of sight. Then he came out of hiding and walked rapidly over to the little house which lay half-way between that of Dr. Vane and the village—the house which sheltered the frivolous Mr. Russell and his jealous lady.
A perfectly respectable parlour maid answered his ring and looked at him enquiringly.
“Is Mrs. Russell in?” Roger asked. “I should like to speak to her for a moment.”