"I told him that I am expecting an offer of work of some sort from the
Duke. Of course it may not come. In any case, it was very kind of Mr.
Moyat."
She drew a little closer to me.
"It was my idea," she whispered. I put it into his head."
"Then it was very kind of you too," I answered. She was apparently disappointed. We sat for several moments in silence. Then she looked around with an air of mystery, and whispered still more softly into my ear—
"I haven't said a word about that—to anybody."
"Thank you very much," I answered. "I was quite sure that you wouldn't, as you had promised."
Again there was silence. She looked at me with some return of that half fearsome curiosity which had first come into her eyes when I made my request.
"Wasn't the inquest horrid?" she said. "Father says they were five hours deciding—and there's old Joe Hassell; even now he won't believe that—that—he came from the sea."
"It isn't a pleasant subject," I said quietly. "Let us talk of something else."
She was swinging a very much beaded slipper backwards and forwards, and gazing at it thoughtfully.