Ursula was standing in the doorway to welcome them.
“I’ve had all the blinds pulled down,” she said, “and Inspector Carver’s coming is rather providential, for my woman has had to go home—her mother has been taken ill. I hope you don’t mind appearing in the role of a chaperone,” she smiled at Carver.
“Even that is not an unusual one,” he replied unsmiling. “Where does she live, the mother of your servant?”
“At Felborough. Poor Margaret only had time to catch the last train.”
“How did Margaret know her mother was ill?” asked the inspector. “Did she have a telegram?”
Ursula nodded.
“Late this afternoon?”
“Yes,” said the girl in surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“She got the telegram in time to catch the train to town; in time, too, to catch a train for Felborough. That was why I asked. You did not see the man last night?”
“I didn’t come down until this morning,” she answered troubled. “Do you think that Margaret has been sent for by—somebody—that it was a ruse to get her away?”