"Thank you, Marjorie," said Wimsey, gravely.
"No, but listen! Have you seen Ann?—I took her away. She's frightfully queer—and there's a policeman outside. But whatever she's done, I couldn't leave her alone in that awful house. You haven't come to—to——"
"Marjorie!" said Wimsey, "don't you ever talk to me again about feminine intuition. You've been thinking all this time that that girl was suffering from guilty conscience. Well, she wasn't. It was a man, my child—a MAN!"
"How do you know?"
"My experienced eye told me as much at the first glance. It's all right now. Sorrow and sighing have fled away. I am going to take your young friend out to dinner."
"But why didn't she tell me what it was all about?"
"Because," said Wimsey, mincingly, "it wasn't the kind of thing one woman tells another."
CHAPTER XXI
Lord Peter Calls A Bluff