"Good afternoon, sir."
"And how is Mrs. Fane today? Better, I hope?"
"Ever so much better, sir," beamed Daisy. The look she directed at H.M. had in it something little short of awe. "She's sitting up a bit, in bed."
"Do you think we might see her, now?"
"I don't see why not, sir. Miss Browning's with her now. But I'll have to go and ask. Will you come in?"
"No hurry, miss. No hurry! As a matter of fact, we'd just like to have a word with Mrs. Propper first. Now, now! Nothing to be alarmed about. Just a little thing where we think she can help us."
"Auntie's in the kitchen. This way, please."
Ann Browning was not upstairs. She was coming down the stairs at this moment, dressed in a white twill sports-frock with bare arms, and with much of the strain gone from her face. The bruise on her neck under the ear must have been covered with powder, for it was not visible.
Masters greeted her genially as she reached the hall.
"Afternoon, Miss Browning! Sorry to hear about that business the other night. You haven't been getting yourself attacked again, have you?"