But Chris was looking in perplexity back in the direction of Mr. Richard, who was waiting as quietly as possible by the gate.
“Tell me one thing,” said Chris in a puzzled tone. “No, I mean tell me half-a-dozen things.”
Stelfox seemed to draw back into himself at her words.
“Won’t it do another time, miss, please?” said he, respectfully. “Mr. Richard’s there waiting for me, and he might——”
“Oh, no, you’re not afraid of his running away now; that’s one of the curious things in the case. And another is that you can trust him not to hurt anybody, although I have myself seen him try to do so. And how is it that he seems to understand what one says at one time and that the next moment one may say something to him of which he won’t take the least notice? And why does he make those dreadful noises, and yet be able to make you understand what he means? It doesn’t sound like a language that he talks at all; but is it?”
Stelfox’s face had become a discreet blank.
“Yes, it’s a foreign language, miss. One of the South African languages, I believe. You see, he was born and brought up in South Africa, and being as he is, not quite like other folks, he hasn’t been able to pick up English yet, but I manage to make him out, through being with him so much.”
Chris smiled a little as she turned to go into the house.
“Thank you very much for your explanation, Stelfox,” she said, “even though I know it isn’t true.”
She thought she heard a dry chuckle behind her as she went up the steps.