“Mr. Pritchard, sir, that got his arm shot. You didn’t see him, I think. He was very big and very handsome, and he was calling Miss Stella his dear and his darling, which, begging your pardon, sir, she seemed quite to like and encourage him.”
Sir Philip muttered an oath under his breath, and stamped his heel on the carpet.
“When did this happen?” he asked sharply. “Before or after her ride?”
“After, sir; oh, some time after. Miss Cranstoun had had time to change into her serge housedress. Indeed, it was just before luncheon, for it was the first luncheon-bell that gave them a fright. You see, sir, it was rather indiscreet, for they stood in the sitting-room quite near the door, which was wide open, so as I couldn’t help seeing them.”
“What happened then?”
“He said he would write, sir, and then he kissed her again, and she him; and they said good-by. And during luncheon he went away, after giving me orders not to tell any one he had gone until an hour or two had passed, and half a sovereign. And he gave a pound to Margaret, and two letters, one for Lady Cranstoun, and one for Lord Carthew.”
“Have they received those letters yet?”
“I placed them on the dressing-tables in Lady Cranstoun’s and in Lord Carthew’s rooms, sir. But neither of them went upstairs after lunch until just now to dress for dinner.”
“No letter was left for Miss Cranstoun, then?”
“Not so far as I know, sir. Directly after lunch Miss Cranstoun went out in the grounds for a short time. Then she came back to her own room, but she wasn’t there at six o’clock, as I found out from her maid, who couldn’t tell me what had become of her.”