Biddy nodded darkly. "She is that, Miss Dinah, and small blame to her."
Dinah pressed suddenly close. "Biddy, why?"
Biddy pursed her lips. "Faith, and it's meself that's afraid, ye'll find the answer to that only too soon, Miss Dinah dear!" she said solemnly. "I can't tell ye the straight truth. Ye wouldn't believe me if I did. Ye must watch for yourself, me jewel. Ye've got a woman's intelligence. Don't ye be afraid to use it!"
It was the soundest piece of advice that she had ever heard from Biddy's lips, and Dinah accepted it in silence. She had known for some time that Biddy had small love for Sir Eustace, but it was evident that the precise reason for this was not to be conveyed in words. She wished she could have persuaded her to be more explicit, but something held her back from attempting to gain the information that Biddy withheld. It was better—surely it was sometimes better—not to know too much.
They met Scott as they turned out of the drawing-room, and Biddy's grim old face softened at the sight of him.
He paused: "Hullo! Going to Isabel? Has she had a good rest, Biddy?"
"Glory to goodness, Master Scott, she has!" said Biddy fervently.
"That's all right." Scott prepared to pass on. "Eustace hasn't gone, I suppose?"
"No, he is in there, waiting for you." Dinah detained him for a moment. "Scott, he—I think he is going to—to let that man off with a light sentence."
"What?" said Scott. "Dinah, you witch! How on earth did you do it?"