A fumble at Miss O'Toole's pocket revealed the probable presence of a box of white feathers.
"Dearest George thinks the Germans are making all kinds of mistakes," said Matilda Freyne placidly. "Losing such lots of men, you know, and making themselves so unpopular and digging so much. He thinks they will all get rheumatism and have to go to Harrogate."
Darby suggested Marienbad and Homburg slyly. He thought the German army invalided might congest Harrogate. Matilda looked at Dearest George, feeling uncertain until she consulted him. George Freyne got up and shut the window sharply. Then he remarked to Stafford that he was glad the wireless station was now properly guarded. Anyone might have reached it before.
"When I saw you over there yesterday, Stafford, I said to you——"
Gheena listened with such elaborate carelessness that it was impossible to avoid nothing what she was doing.
"And, by the way, how did you get in?" added George Freyne fussily.
"I had some business there. Hanly charged my battery for me, too. Yes, I knew the guard. I thought they'd put on men soon."
Mrs. Weston, knitting rapidly, began to talk about the hunting in rapturous tones. It was actually going to commence next day, and she hoped her bay horse would be as good as he looked, the darling.
"If he only gets as far as his looks go," said Darby absently.
Miss O'Toole was questioning Basil Stafford ruthlessly—as to his age, birthplace and nationality. These items she wrote down in a small note-book, where, she said pointedly, she kept a register of fit men. Then quite suddenly she asked a question in laboured German.