“You recognized her?”
He assented gravely.
“It was the woman who stood in the chemist's shop that night, signing her name in a book,” he said.
He did not apologize in any way for the shock he had given her. He had done it deliberately. From that very first morning, when they had breakfasted together at London Bridge, he had felt that he deserved her confidence, and in a sense it was a grievance with him that she had withheld it.
“Did she recognize you?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I was sent for into the office and found her there with the chief. I felt sure that she recognized me from the first, and when she agreed to look at Grantham House, she insisted upon it that I should accompany her. While we were in the motor-car, she asked me about you. She wished for your address.”
“Did you give it to her?” the girl cried, breathlessly.
“No; I said that I must consult you first.”
She drew a little sigh of relief. Nevertheless, she was looking white and shaken.
“Did she say what she wanted me for?”