“Did he tell you I’d come here to see him not long since?” Audrey demanded.
“And why didn’t you pop in to see me? I was hurt when I got your note.”
“Did he tell you?”
“Of course he didn’t. He never tells anybody anything. That sort of thing’s very useful at times, especially when it’s combined with a total lack of curiosity. He fixed every, thing up. And he keeps the gates locked, so that people can’t wander in.”
“He didn’t lock the gate at the bottom of the garden, because it won’t lock,” said Audrey. “And so he didn’t keep me from wandering in.” She felt rather disappointed that Aguilar should once more have escaped her reproof and that the dream of his double life should have vanished away, but she was determined to prove that he was not perfect.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Miss Ingate. “It wouldn’t startle me to hear that he knew you were intending to come. All I know is that Miss Foley’s been here for several days. Not a soul knows except me and Aguilar. And it seems to get safer every day. She does venture about the house now, though she never goes into the garden while it’s light. It was Aguilar had the idea of putting this room straight for her.”
“And it was he who cut the bread-and-butter,” added Jane Foley.
“And this was to be our first tea-party!” Miss Ingate half shrieked. “I’d come—I do come, you know, to keep an eye on things as you asked me—I’d come, and we were just having a cosy little chat in the tank-room. Aguilar’s gone to Colchester to get a duplicate key of the front gates. He left me his, so I could get in and lock up after myself, and he put the water on to boil before leaving. I said to Miss Foley, I said, up in the tank-room: ‘Was that a ring at the door?’ But she said it wasn’t.”
“I’ve been a little deaf since I was in prison,” said Jane Foley.
“And now we come down and find you here! I—I hope I’ve done right.” This, falteringly, from Miss Ingate.