“And what did you say?” Quickly.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t enlighten them. I believe I suggested that sun theory—although it really wasn’t blistering hot to-day, and you,” with inimitable irony, “look capable of standing a little sunshine.”
“Yes, I feel as if I could stand a whole lot,” said Bob gloomily.
“Also I said,” unmindful of this last remark, “there is sometimes a method in eccentricity, or madness. Lord Stanfield agreed with me. He said he found you an ‘interesting young man.’”
“Did he? Confound his impudence!” That monocle-man certainly did ruffle Bob.
“You forget he’s an old friend of my aunt’s.” Severely. “As I was saying, Lord Stanfield found you ‘interesting,’ and we agreed there might be a method,” studying him closely, “but when we came to search for one, we couldn’t find it.”
She didn’t ask a question, so he didn’t have to reply.
“Mr. Bennett, why did you answer me like that down in the village?”
Bob hung his head. He felt worse than a boy detected stealing apples. “Had to,” he muttered desperately.
“Why?” There was no mercy in that still pitiless voice.