It was Miss Creed’s turn now to give Sir Richard’s hand a warning pinch. In fact, so convulsive was her grip that he glanced down at her with a reassuring little smile.
“I am afraid I cannot tell you our reasons for coming here,” he said. “Certain circumstances arose which made the journey necessary. Pen’s attire, however, is easily explained. Neither of us wished to burden ourselves with a duenna upon a mission of—er—extreme delicacy; and the world, my dear Luttrell, being a censorious place, it was judged expedient for Pen to pretend to be, instead of my affianced wife, my young cousin.”
“To be sure, yes! of course!” said Piers, mystified, but overborne by the Corinthian’s air of assurance.
“By now,” said Sir Richard, “we should be on our way back to London, had it not been for two unfortunate circumstances. For one of these, you, I must regretfully point out to you, are responsible.”
“I?” gasped Piers.
“You,” said Sir Richard, releasing Pen’s hand. “The lady to whom you, I apprehend, are secretly betrothed, has, in a somewhat misguided attempt to avert suspicion from the truth informed her parent that Pen is the man with whom she had an assignation in the spinney last night.”
“Yes, Pen told me that. Indeed, I wish she had not done it, sir, but she is so impulsive, you know!”
“So I have been led to infer,” said Sir Richard. “Unhappily, since I am for the present compelled to remain in Queen Charlton, her impulsiveness has rendered our situation a trifle awkward.”
“Yes, I see that,” owned Piers. “I am very sorry for it, sir. But must you remain here?”
“Yes,” replied Sir Richard. “No doubt it has escaped your memory, but a murder was committed in the spinney last night. It was I who discovered Brandon’s body, and conveyed the news to the proper quarter.”