“Of course you have, you silly old thing,” Audrey reassured her. “It’s splendid!”
“Whenever I think of the police I laugh,” said Miss Ingate in an unsettled voice. “I can’t help it. They can’t possibly suspect. And they’re looking everywhere, everywhere! I can’t help laughing.” And suddenly she burst into tears.
“Oh! Now! Winnie, dear. Don’t spoil it all!” Audrey protested, jumping up.
Madame Piriac, who had hitherto maintained the most complete passivity, restrained her.
“Leave her tranquil!” murmured Madame Piriac in French. “She is not spoiling it. On the contrary! One is content to see that she is a woman!”
And then Miss Ingate laughed, and blushed, and called herself names.
“And so you haven’t had my letter,” said she. “I wish you had had it. But what is this yachting business? I never heard of such goings-on. Is it your yacht? This world is getting a bit too wonderful for me.”
The answer to these questions was cut short by rather heavy masculine footsteps approaching the door of the drawing-room. Miss Ingate grew instantly serious. Audrey and Jane looked at each other, and Jane Foley went quickly but calmly to the door and opened it.
“Oh! It’s Mr. Aguilar—returned!” she said, quietly. “Is anything the matter, Mr. Aguilar?”
Aguilar, hat in hand, entered the room.