But Mr. Mallory waved the letter aside with one of his fugitive smiles. "I will take your word for it, child," he said. "Those secrets used to be considered sacred in my courting days, but I am growing old-fashioned, I suppose. Reggie got back to his ship all right yesterday, then?"
"Yes, he is where he loves best to be I really believe—on board his 'thirty-knot sardine-box,' as he calls it," Enid replied. "He seems very pleased with himself and with the prospect of having plenty to do. He has got to take the destroyer out for torpedo practice every day for a week, leaving port at four in the morning."
"Ah well!" sighed Mr. Mallory, gently, "there is nothing like the strenuous life for the young. I often wish I was back in harness again instead of rusting here."
Enid stole an affectionately impudent glance at her father's keen face. "Why, for the past week you have been simply revelling in the atmosphere of intrigue, which is the breath of life to you, dad," she said with a little laugh. "I am due at the links to play golf with Mona Dartring, but I had to wait and ask you if there are any new developments. I mean about the French onion-seller in whom you were interested?"
Mr. Mallory shook his head. "I seem to have run up against a dead wall in that direction," he replied. "I am utterly unable to trace a connexion between him and Nugent, yet I am morally certain that they are both concerned in the murder of Levison in greater or lesser degree. Last night at the Manor House the air was charged with mystery which I could not pierce. At dinner Chermside was silent and preoccupied, while Miss Maynard was almost hysterically vivacious. Afterwards, in the drawing-room, she had a long confabulation with Nugent of the latter's seeking; then she withdrew into the orangery with Chermside for an interview from which they both returned as glum as if they had been mourners at their own funerals. There is some devilish trickery going on, with Nugent pulling the strings, but I can do nothing but wait and watch."
"Watch Mr. Nugent?" suggested Enid with more than her usual gravity.
"Him and others. If one could spend a few hours inside The Hut in a state of invisibility much would be made clear. For instance, an unseen listener at a conference between either that coquettish maid of Miss Maynard's, or the onion-seller, or even Chermside himself, and Nugent would go far towards the solution I am striving for."
"What has Louise, the maid, got to do with it, father?"
"Possibly nothing. On the other hand, I think it extremely probable that she is the pivot of the whole situation—so far as the murder of Levison goes. It is established that the onion-seller, whom the worthy Miss Dymmock chastised out of the park, was jealous of some one in respect of the maid; but unfortunately unless one has a chance of cross-examining the maid herself there is no way of proving whether Levison was the unknown admirer who had excited her compatriot's jealousy."
"I'll take that in hand," came Enid's eager answer. "I often see Louise when I am with Violet Maynard at the Manor. I'll pump the hussey as limp as a punctured tyre the next time I'm over there, and it's sure to be in a day or two."