"In that case," said Charles, "you can count me out. I'm not going to sit and allow myself to be buffeted about in this or any other cause."
"I think," Mrs. Bosanquet replied, "that we are unlikely to get any results at all if you approach the subject in a spirit of levity."
When breakfast was over Charles and Peter went off to see what could be done about hauling the car out of the ditch. They had no sooner gone than Margaret announced her intention of cycling into the village to buy darning-silk. Celia seemed inclined to accompany her, but since she had promised to go for a sedate walk with Mrs. Bosanquet, she had to give up the idea. She wrote out a list of groceries to be ordered at the village store, and said that she and Mrs. Bosanquet might stroll to meet Margaret on her way home.
Margaret's first house of call was not the village store, but the Bell Inn. She inquired of the porter whether Mr. Strange was in, and while he went to find out, she sat down in the lounge, and watched two rather nondescript females collect their sketching paraphernalia preparatory to setting out. They eyed her with the usual faint air of hostility displayed to one another by most English people, and after ascertaining that they had not forgotten the sandwiches or the camp-stools, or the thermos, soon left her in sole possession of the lounge.
She had not long to wait before the door at one end of the lounge was opened, and Michael Strange came briskly into the room. He did not seem surprised to see her, but said without preamble: "I'm sorry to have been so long, Miss Fortescue: I was just finishing my breakfast. Won't you sit down?"
"I hope I didn't interrupt you," she said stiffly.
"Not at all. It's a disgraceful hour at which to be breakfasting in any case. But I had a very late night."
Margaret fairly gasped. Of all the cool, calm cheek! she thought. She remained standing, and looking him squarely in the face, said: "Mr. Strange, I think you must know why I've come to see you this morning."
The hint of a smile touched his mouth. "I can guess," he said. "I wish you hadn't seen me last night, but you did, and the mischief's done."
Her heart sank. "Then you are the Monk!" she cried sharply.