“Oh, do tell me!” begged Pen. “What was it, and why did you stop when you heard the stammering-man speak? Do you—is it possible that you know him?”
“Very well indeed,” replied Sir Richard.
“Good heavens! And it is he who is visiting Piers! Dear sir, does it seem to you that everything is becoming a trifle awkward?”
“Extremely so,” said Sir Richard.
“Well, that is what I thought,” said Pen. “First we are saddled with a stolen necklace, and now we discover that a friend of yours is staying with Piers!”
“Oh no, we do not!” said Sir Richard. “That young gentleman is no friend of mine! Nor, I fancy, is his presence in this neighbourhood unconnected with that necklace. If I do not mistake, Pen, we have become enmeshed in a plot from which it will take all my ingenuity to extricate us.”
“I have ingenuity too,” said Miss Creed, affronted.
“Not a scrap,” responded Sir Richard calmly.
She swallowed this, saying in a small voice: “Very well, if I haven’t, I haven’t, but I wish you will explain.”
“I feel sure you do,” said Sir Richard: “But the truth is that I cannot. Not only does it appear to me to be a matter of uncommon delicacy, but it is also for the moment—a little obscure.”