She went out primly after tea, to see to it, jangling keys on a string. Huxtable went back to some mysterious ‘work.’
Then the air cleared suddenly. The blind man unbent with a touch of humour. It is humour that keeps the door in the wall through which alone we may hope to peep into our neighbour’s garden. We have passed that ivy-grown, impenetrable portal a thousand times, when suddenly one day we find it open, and instead of a dog growling in an arid patch of weeds, we find a friendly neighbour grinning in our face.
‘Do you know what’s in those boxes?’ said Hartopp confidentially.
‘No; what?’
‘Wood pavement.’ He exploded with laughter. ‘Her things weren’t fit to bring, but she wouldn’t be seen arriving without luggage; so she put that in to weight them down. That’s what the fire’s for. She’ll keep ’em locked till she’s got it all burnt—a little day by day. Don’t let her know I told you.’
It was a great nuisance, Dwala said, he had to go out that evening. Huxtable must entertain them. As for himself, he was dining with Lady Wyse.
‘Is Lady Wyse a friend of yours?’
‘A great friend.’
‘The one whose name’s always in the paper?’
‘I suppose so.’