"He didn't like me," remarked Mina. "He used to call me the Imp."
"Yes, yes," said Neeld in absent-minded acquiescence. "Yes, the Imp."
"You don't seem much surprised!" cried Mina in mock indignation.
"Surprised?" He started more violently. "Oh, yes—I—I— Of course! I'm——" A laugh from his host spared him the effort of further apologies. But he was a good deal shaken; he had nearly betrayed his knowledge of the Imp. Indeed he could not rid himself of the idea that there was a very inquisitive look in Madame Zabriska's large eyes.
Mina risked one more question, put very carelessly.
"I think he must have met Lady Tristram there once or twice. Does he say anything about her?"
"Not a word," said Neeld, grasping the nettle firmly this time.
Mina took another look at him, but he blinked resolutely behind his glasses.
"Well, it's just like Mr Cholderton to leave out all the interesting things," she observed resignedly. "Only I wonder why you edit his book if it's like that, you know."
"Hello, what's that?" exclaimed Iver, suddenly sitting up in his chair.