She saw his eyes shift to the conservatory.
"Don't be afraid," she bantered, "Mr. Slewer is not there; he came in the other day without my knowledge," she hastened to add, "the servant showed him into the drawing-room and he took the unpardonable liberty of walking through into the garden."
"Bill has no drawing-room manners," he said regretfully, "he heard my voice and it lured him: you'd never suspect me of being syrenish, would you?"
She raised her grave eyes to his.
"You frightened me dreadfully," she said. "Were you men in earnest?"
"Not a bit," he lied cheerfully, "we were just rehearsing a little play."
"But you were," she persisted, "you looked dreadful and that wretched man's face was devilish."
"S-sh!" he reproved, "the poor chap was a bit upset, and very naturally. One cannot lose one's wife without——"
"Please don't be horrid," she begged, flushing. "I thought that you were not looking as happy as you are usually," she added with a touch of malice.
"I was in the bluest of funks," he confessed, "especially when he pushed you back. You see Hank was covering him and Hank is a terribly short-tempered man. I was wondering how we could explain away Bill's dead body without creating a scandal."