His sad eyes wandered over the house again.
“It is a very nice place,” he said, and, lifting his hat, went on.
Digby was out: he had gone for a gentle walk, and, looking up the road after the stranger, she saw the guard appear round a bend in the road, saw him stop and speak to the stranger. Apparently they knew one another, for they shook hands at meeting, and after a while Digby pointed down the road to where she was standing, and she saw the man nod. Soon after the stranger went on out of view. Who could he be? Was it an additional guard that the three men had put to protect her? When Digby came up to her, she asked him.
“That gentleman, miss? He is Mr. Poiccart.”
“Poiccart?” she said, delighted. “Oh, I wish I had known!”
“I was surprised to see him,” said the guard. “As a matter of fact, he’s the one of the three gentlemen I’ve met the most. He’s generally in Curzon Street, even when the others are away.”
Digby had nothing to say about Poiccart except that he was a very quiet gentleman and took no active part in the operations of the Just Men.
“I wonder why he wanted to know about onions?” asked the girl thoughtfully. “That sounded awfully mysterious.”
It would not have been so mysterious to Leon.
The house retired to bed soon after ten, Alma going the rounds, and examining the new bolts and locks which had been attached that morning to every door which gave ingress to the house.