“If he was it would account for my daughter’s maid getting hold of an inaccurate version of the story this morning. But it doesn’t matter. Go on with what you were saying.”
“There isn’t any more,” said Bob. “They hammered him, and then we carried him home. That’s all.”
“I am going down to see him now,” I said. “He’s thinking of taking further action.”
“Let him,” said Bob. “Is Miss D’Aubigny at home?”
“Yes, she is. If you’re going up to see her—”
“I would,” said Bob, “if I thought she wouldn’t be angry with me.”
“She’s nervous,” I said, “and excited; but she didn’t seem angry.”
Just outside the town I met Crossan and, very much to my surprise, McNeice walking with him. Crossan handed me a letter. I put it into my pocket and greeted McNeice.
“I did not know you were here,” I said. “When did you come?”
“Last night,” said McNeice. “Crossan brought me on his motor.”