‘I am getting on excellently,’ mused Richard once more.
‘Mike!’ the girl called. ‘Micky!’
A very small, alert man instantly appeared round the corner of the garden wall, running towards them. He kept his head bent, so that Richard could not clearly see his face.
‘What is it ye’ll be after, Miss?’ Micky asked.
‘Take charge of these cars. Put them in the shed. Perhaps Mr. Redgrave will be good enough to assist you with the new one.’
Raphael Craig walked towards the house. In three minutes, the cars being safely housed in a shed which formed part of some farm buildings, Richard and Teresa joined him in the spacious hall of the abode. Supper was served in the hall, because, as Teresa said, the hall was the coolest place in the house. Except an oldish, stout woman, who went up the stairs while they were at supper, Richard saw no sign of a domestic servant. Before the meal, which consisted of cold fowl, a pasty, and some more than tolerable claret, was finished, Raphael Craig excused himself, said ‘Good-night’ abruptly, and retired into one of the rooms on the ground-floor. Richard and Teresa were then left alone. Not a word further had been exchanged between father and daughter as to the daughter’s adventures on the road. So far as the old man’s attitude implied anything at all, it implied that Teresa’s regular custom was to return home at one in the morning after adventures with motor-cars and elephants. Richard thought this lack of curiosity on the part of the old man remarkably curious, especially as Raphael and his daughter were obviously very much attached to each other.
‘The circus was amusing this afternoon,’ Richard remarked.
The talk had flagged.
‘Where was it?’ Teresa asked.
‘At Dunstable,’ said Richard.