Agatha was revolving this refusal in her mind when Grimshaw came out of the cottage carrying his bag. He was smiling, thinking of Cicely and her tryst with him.
Agatha nudged the somnolent John.
“Mr. Grimshaw is coming.”
John rose, and saluted stiffly as Grimshaw approached.
“Good day, sergeant. Going down the old, old trail, eh?”
John answered perfunctorily: “Yes, sir.”
Grimshaw looked at Agatha, who had not risen. This abstention was part of her new creed.
“I’ve no new instructions for you, Miss Farleigh. Keep your aunt quiet.”
Agatha replied as formally as John:
“Yes, sir. Is it typhoid, Mr. Grimshaw?”