“Yes,” laughed Tregenna, “one has to put out a sign. But come and see me; perhaps I can help you.”
“I don’t like after-dinner promises,” laughed Geoffrey. “They are rash. I may put you to the test.”
“Rash? Oh, no! We are not like that in the west. I shall be only too glad to help you to the best of my power. Good-night!”
“Good-night!”
Geoffrey remained at the garden gate thinking that his companion had spoken a great deal more loudly than was necessary. Then, as he had not finished his cigar, he resolved to smoke it out, and enjoy for a few minutes the cool night air.
“I don’t like to be hasty,” he thought, “but I scarcely think that I shall trust you, Mr Tregenna, beyond the reach of my hand. If I am not very much mistaken your civility has a meaning, and you are a confounded scoundrel. If not, I beg your pardon.”
“Yes,” he said, half aloud, after smoking on for a few minutes and thinking deeply, “it was your voice that I heard down in that old building. Now I wonder who was the girl?”
As the thought crossed his mind, the faint sound of a closing casement smote his ear, when, like a flash, the light came.
“By George! of course,” he said. “The other voice was familiar, too. It was our pretty little maiden here. Hang it all! I’ve tumbled into the thick of a mystery, and if I don’t take care I shall be in the middle of the mess.”
“Hah?” he exclaimed, as he tapped at the door, “As I said before, it’s no business of mine, and her father knows best; but this love-making is the greatest nuisance under the sun, or I ought to say the moon.”