"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant.
"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You know how unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that you should look after Maïeddine, on your own, till the dinner-party was over, anyhow, and I could get off, on a wire from you—wherever you might be?"
"Yes. She seemed interested."
"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready to follow you with me, in the car."
"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!"
"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would, which might have made things awkward for me; because when my aunt wants to do a thing, you know by this time as well as I do, it's as good as done."
"But it's splendid—if she can stand the racket. Of course her idea is, that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to come back alone with us, perhaps a long way, from some outlandish hole."
"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her mandate. And I believe she's quite able to stand the racket. Her state of mind is such, that if she looked sixteen in the morning, this afternoon she's gone back to fifteen."
"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile—and has nervous headaches——"
"She won't have any in my motor car."