“How did he come? Had he a car or bicycle, or did he come by train?”
On this point she could not enlighten him.
“I almost wish you had not come up,” said Tab. “If you had told me, I would have gone to Stone Cottage and stayed the night, especially after my burglar. I should like to meet the gentleman who treats my flat so unceremoniously.”
She made no reply and then:
“Why did I come here, I wonder?” she asked, and it was as though she were speaking to herself, for she laughed. “Poor Mr. Tab,” she said, with that little hint of mockery in her voice which he adored, “I am laying all my burdens upon you. Mystery upon mystery, some of my own, but this, I promise you, not of my making.” She considered, her finger at her lips. “Suppose I return to Stone Cottage on Monday morning and you come down later? My woman will be an efficient chaperon, and I think you should come after dark—that is, if you can spare the time.”
Tab wanted to tell her that all eternity, so far as he was concerned, was at her disposal, but very wisely refrained.
He saw her to her car and went back to his room with a sense of exhilaration that he had not felt all that week.
XVII
It was a delicate matter broaching the subject of police espionage to Carver. In the first place, he did not want to give the inspector the slightest hint that Ursula Ardfern expected to be watched. He compromised by telling that gloomy man, at the first opportunity, that he had seen Miss Ardfern. And then he mentioned casually and by-the-way, the story of her watcher.
“Of course it isn’t a thief,” said Carver promptly. “Thieves do not advertise their presence by alarming the people they hope to rob. Has she complained to the local police?”