“Is that why he’s not coming till Saturday week?”
“Mr. Merceron! But what was Miss Bushell doing at the Pool? Did she come to find you?”
“Oh, no; just for a walk.”
“Poor girl!”
“Why—it’s good for her.”
“I didn’t mean the walk,”
“I’d blush if there was light enough to make it any use, Mrs. Marland.”
“Oh, but I know there’s something. You don’t go there every evening to look for a dead lady, Mr. Merceron.”
Charlie stopped short, and took his cigar from his mouth.
“What?” he asked, a little abruptly.