“Well, I haven’t seen him for five years, but it was always I who thought of things to do.”
“That is what I feared. Where does he live?”
“Oh, about two miles farther down this road! My home is on the other side of the village. Should you like to see it?”
“Immensely, but not at the moment. We will now retrace our steps, for it is time that you were in bed.”
“I shan’t sleep a wink.”
“I trust that you are mistaken, my good child—in fact, I am reasonably certain that you are.”
“And to add to everything,” said Pen, unheeding, “Piers has got a horrid man staying with him! I don’t know what is to be done.”
“In the morning,” said Sir Richard soothingly, “we will attend to all these difficulties.”
“In the morning, very likely, Aunt Almeria will have discovered me.”
On this gloomy reflection, they retraced their steps to the inn. Its shuttered windows cast golden gleams out into the quiet street, several of them standing open to let in the cool night air. Just as they were about to pass one of them on their way to the inn door, a voice spoke inside the room, and to her astonishment, Sir Richard suddenly gripped Pen’s arm, and brought her to a dead halt. She started to enquire the reason for this sudden stop, but his hand across her mouth choked back the words.