"Jessop," he murmured, "I can tell by the trot of his horse."
Jessop, one of the farmers on the estate, it was. Geoffrey regarded his companion admiringly. He seemed to be able to dispense with eyes altogether. A long course of training in woodcraft stood him in good stead now. The apple-cheeked farmer pulled up so as to pass the squires at a walking pace.
"Morning, Jessop," Geoffrey cried cheerfully. "Where are you going dressed in your best. And what are you doing with that feminine-looking box?"
The big man grinned sheepishly.
"Riding into town," he explained. "Fact is, missus and myself have got a lodger, a great lady, who's taken our drawing-room and two bedrooms. They do say it's going to be the fashion for the 'quality' to spend their holidays right in t'country. It's a rare help to us these hard times."
Ralph Ravenspur turned round suddenly upon his nephew.
"Is it a fact?" he demanded. "Is it as Jessop says?"
"I believe so," Geoffrey replied. "I know that for the last five years the influx of visitors along this lonely coast has been steadily growing. It seems to have become quite the thing for good-class people to take cottages and farmhouses miles away from everywhere, but I have not heard of any of our tenants having them before."
"I be the first here, sir," Jessop replied. "The lady came over and said she had been recommended to come to us. Not as I wanted her at first, but six guineas a week for two months ain't to be despised. But the lady has a power of parcels to be fetched and carried, surely. That's why I'm off to town."
Jessop touched his hat and rode on. For a time Ralph was silent.