"Nae, nae, a companion, young leddy. But that's neither here nor there, ye ken. Weel--I mean, well, young lady, I stopped at the inn on the night your father was murdered, and----"
"We know all about that, sir," boomed Mrs. Mountford, "Inspector Trent informed us of what you had told him. In the interests of justice, he is keeping Miss Tedder advised of all matters likely to lead to a detection of her father's murderer."
"Then I need not go over the same ground again," said Gowrie readily, and laughing in his sleeve at the way in which he was deceiving these women, who doubtless thought themselves extremely clever, "sufficient it is to say, that I was asleep all the night, and departed early in the morning ignorant that a crime had been committed. When I returned many days later, I found that my daughter, whom I had left in the charge of Mrs. Narby----"
"As a servant," interpolated Maud spitefully.
"As a companion," persisted Gowrie obstinately. "I found that she had fled with Angus Herries!"
"With my cousin," Maud rose excitedly, "did she know where he was?"
"No," lied the reprobate skilfully, "she saw him at the inn, and then he escaped. Afterwards she received a letter from him, written from a Buckinghamshire village, asking her to join him."
"And why?" asked Mrs. Mountford curiously.
"Because, it seems, the two loved one another."
"Absurd," cried Maud, her small face working with anger, "why, she only saw him once."