At lunch-time Celia asked whether he had seen Duval and forbidden him to come any more to the Priory. When she heard that the artist proposed to pay them a visit that night she was anything but pleased. "He can't come tonight!" she said. "You know we've got the Rootes and Colonel Ackerley dining with us."
"I can't help it," Charles replied. "I don't propose to ask him to dinner. If he does turn up I'll tell Bowers to push him into the study. I shall soon be able to get rid of him."
Margaret said, without raising her eyes from her plate: "You didn't ask Mr. Strange to dinner too?"
"I did not," said Charles with emphasis.
"I wondered," Margaret explained offhandedly, "because I thought Celia wanted him invited."
Her brother regarded her intently. "Celia? I was under the impression that it was you who seemed keenest about it." He waited to hear what she would say, but she said nothing at all. "Look here, Sis, I know you've got rather a soft corner for that fellow, but you can take it from me that there's something very fishy about him. And if you happen to meet him at any time, I'd like you to be very much on your guard. See?"
Margaret flushed scarlet. "What do you mean? Why should I meet him? And I don't know why you should think I have a soft corner for him simply because I won't leap to conclusions as you're doing."
"All right, keep your hair on," Peter recommended. "But I don't mind telling you that yesterday this precious Mr. Strange of yours somehow or other got wind of our visit to the police, and followed us. I just mention it so that you shall see there is a real need for you to be on your guard when talking to him."
Startled grey eyes flew to his face. "Followed you?" Margaret said. "To - to Manfield?"
Peter nodded. "How he got wind of it we don't know, but it seems fairly certain that he did."