Anita looked at him with a certain approval.
“Ah—so you’ve thought of that, too? Now what exactly do you base it on?”
He shrugged and smiled.
“Delightfullest—my thoughts are thistle-down.”
“But you have your theory?” She pinned him down. “I see that you too have your theory.”
“Our theory.” He bowed.
“You’ve got wits, Jasper.”
“What are you two driving at?” Miss Howe fidgeted.
“We’re evolving a theory—a theory of Madala Grey. Who lived in the south country, Anita?”
“Carey, for that matter.”