“Not a soul—not a single solitary soul,” said Mr. Ives, and his voice was almost blithe.
“How long would it take to get from your house to the cottage at Orchards?”
“On foot?”
“On foot, yes.”
“Oh, ten-fifteen minutes, perhaps. There’s a short cut across the fields behind the house that comes out close to there.”
“The one that Miss Page used to take the children to the playhouse?”
“That’s the one, yes.”
“She knew of this path?”
“Well, obviously.” The grim smile flashed for a moment to open mockery.
“And you knew of it?”