Mrs. Milbank began to fold up the work she had started to embroider. "Is it private, Margaret? Would you likee me to vanish, with a plausible excuse?"
"No, not a bit! Please don't go! I wanted to ask you, Mr. Milbank, whether you can remember the name of the man who wanted to know if the Priory was for sale."
The solicitor wrinkled his brow. "I'm not sure that I can. The file is at the office, of course, and I can let you know to-morrow. Rather an ordinary name, as far as I remember. I think it was Robinson." He gazed up at the ceiling. "Yes, I'm nearly certain it was. George Robinson. But I won't swear to it."
"I see. You didn't actually meet him, did you?"
"No, he wrote, and I distinctly remember that I sent your answer to a poste-restante address, as he explained that he was on a motor tour. Why? Have you reconsidered your decision?"
"No, but we - we rather wanted to know who it was. We don't mean to sell the Priory yet."
"I'm rather relieved to hear you say that," smiled the lawyer, "for I had another man in making inquiries, and turned him down."
Margaret looked quickly towards him. "Another man? Wanting to buy the place?"
"I imagine he must have had some such idea, though he didn't actually say so. I told him that you had no intention of selling."
"Who was he?" Margaret asked. "Anyone we know?"