“I know that, sir!” she whispered. “Of course, as soon as I saw you, I knew you weren’t Mr. Ross. But—”
“Look here!” said Ross, bluntly. “What’s it all about, anyhow?”
“There was a little difficulty, sir,” said Mrs. Jones, still in a whisper. “But it’s all over now.”
All over now? A new thought came to Ross. Had the man under the sofa been Miss Solway’s “terrible trouble,” and had Cousin James been sent for to help—in doing what had already been done?
He had, at this moment, a most clear and definite warning from his brain. “Clear out!” it said. “Get out of this, now. Don’t wait; don’t ask questions; just go!” All through his body this warning signal ran, making his scalp prickle and his heart beat fast. “It is bad for you here. Go! Now!”
And his stubborn and indomitable spirit answered: “I won’t!”
“I want to see Miss Solway,” he said, aloud.
Mrs. Jones looked at him for a moment, and apparently the expression on his face filled her with despair.
“Oh, dear!” she said, with a tremulous sigh. “I knew; I told her it was a mistake to send. Oh, dear!”
Ross stood there and waited.