"The young lady who came to tea was round here four or five days ago,
Mr. Vane," said Mrs. Green, when she had set a match to the fire.
Vane sat very still. "And what did she want, Mrs. Green?"
"To see you, sir. She said that she had rung up the depot, and the man who answered said you were on leave. . . ."
"He would," said Vane, grimly.
"So she came here," Mrs. Green paused, and watched him with a motherly eye; then she busied herself needlessly over the fire. "I found her with Binks in her arms—and she seemed just miserable. 'Oh! can't you tell me where he is, Mrs. Green?' she said. 'I can't, my dear,' said I, 'for I don't know myself . . . .' And then she picked up a piece of paper and wrote a few words on it, and sealed it up, and addressed it to you at Murchester. . . ."
"Ah!" said Vane quietly. "She wrote it here, did she?" He laughed a short, bitter laugh. "She was right, Mrs. Green. I had the game in my hands, and I chucked it away." He rose and stared grimly at the houses opposite. "Did she say by any chance where she was staying?"
"Ashley Gardens, she said; and if you came in, I was to let you know."
"Thank you, Mrs. Green." He turned round at length, and took up the telephone book. "You might let me have some tea. . . ."
The worthy woman bustled out of the room, shaking her head. Like Binks, she knew that something was very wrong; but the consolation of sitting in a basket and waiting for the clouds to roll by was denied her. For the Humans have to plot and contrive and worry, whatever happens. . . .
"Is that Lady Auldfearn's?" Vane took the telephone off the table.
"Oh! Lady Auldfearn speaking? I'm Captain Vane. . . . Is Miss
Devereux stopping with you? Just left yesterday, you say. . . .
Yes—I rather wanted to see her. Going to be where? At the
Mainwarings' dance to-night. Thank you. But you don't know where she
is at present. . . ."