“From Dublin,” said Sir Lucius, “she came on here. The police sergeant——”
“Who’s a dunderheaded fool,” said Lord Torrington.
“He says there’s a young lady going about the bay for the last two days in a boat.”
“That’s the wrong tack altogether,” said Lord Torrington. “Isabel would never think of going in a boat. I tell you she can’t row.”
“Now, Frank,” said Sir Lucius, “did you see or hear anything of her?”
Frank would have liked very much to deny that he had seen any lady. His dislike of Lord Torrington was strong in him. He had been snubbed in the train, injured while leaving the steamer, and actually insulted that very afternoon. He felt, besides, the strongest sympathy with any daughter who ran away from a home ruled by Lord and Lady Torrington. But he had been asked a straight question and it was not in him to tell a lie deliberately.
“We did meet a lady,” he said, “in fact we lunched with her today, but her name was Rutherford.”
“Was she rowing about alone in a boat?” said Lord Torrington.
“She had a boy to row her,” said Frank. “She’d hired the boat. She said she came from the British Museum and was collecting sponges.”
“Sponges!” said Sir Lucius. “How could she collect sponges here, and what does the British Museum want sponges for?”