“Yes, sir.”
They stepped out through the French window and sauntered across the lawn. Before they had reached the other side Parkinson reported himself.
“You had better stay here,” said his master, indicating the sward generally. “Mrs Bellmark will allow you to bring out a chair from the drawing-room.”
“Thank you, sir; there is a rustic seat already provided,” replied Parkinson.
He sat down with his back to the houses and opened the book that he had brought. Let in among its pages was an ingeniously contrived mirror.
When their promenade again brought them near the rustic seat Carrados dropped a few steps behind.
“He is watching you from one of the upper rooms, sir,” fell from Parkinson’s lips as he sat there without raising his eyes from the page before him.
The blind man caught up to his hostess again.
“You intended this lawn for croquet?” he asked.
“No; not specially. It is too small, isn’t it?”