“In the matter of investigation?” he inquired.
“They are coming here this afternoon with Captain Palliser to—to question the servants, and some of the villagers. They will question me,” alarmedly.
“They would be sure to do that,”—he really seemed quite to envelop her with kindness—“but I beg of you not to be alarmed. Nothing you could have to say could possibly do harm to Temple Barholm.” He knew it was her fear of this contingency which terrified her.
“You do feel sure of that?” she burst forth, relievedly. “You do—because you know him?”
“I do. Let us be calm, dear lady. Let us be calm.”
“I will! I will!” she protested. “But Captain Palliser has arranged that a lady should come here—a lady who disliked poor Temple very much. She was most unjust to him.”
“Lady Joan Fayre?” he suggested, and then paused with a remote smile as if lending himself for the moment to some humor he alone detected in the situation.
“She will not injure his cause, I think I can assure you.”
“She insisted on misunderstanding him. I am so afraid—”
The appearance of Pearson at the door interrupted her and caused her to rise from her seat. The neat young man was pale and spoke in a nervously lowered voice.