After this Scanlon fell into a silence, not an absent one such as Campe seemed plunged in, but alert and observant. When appealed to he replied briefly, but he did not lose a word or miss an expression of either face.
“Here,” said he, mentally, “is where I break my new-made resolution. For the time being I am not a non-reasoning recorder. I must reason, or I’ll sink. And as something seems on the move between the ladies, I don’t want to do that.”
“You would do anything well, my dear Grace.” Here Miss Hohenlo’s white hand smoothed her faded hair. “Anything in the world. But being clever and ingenious and persistent, I am sorry to say, does not always bring success. And if you have failed in any of your undertakings it is this, and not yourself, that is to blame.”
“I wish I could think so,” said the girl. “Perhaps I would then have the energy to go on.”
“Energy!” Miss Hohenlo laughed gently. “Oh, Grace, as if you could ever lack that—you who are energy itself. Mr. Scanlon, please speak to her again; she will insist upon doing herself these little injustices.”
The tones of the two women were mild, their looks were kind, their words were inconsequent; and yet underneath all these things the big man seemed to detect a rapid play of meaning.
“It’s there,” said he, to himself, “but, as usual, I am not getting it. However, one thing is plain—the elderly lady is on top of the younger one; and if it is at all possible, I’m going to find out how it is before the night is done.”
In this purpose events seemed to favour Scanlon. Miss Knowles proposed a game of billiards with Campe after dinner, and as Miss Hohenlo declined, Bat declined also; and so he was left alone with her in the great room where the tapestries hung.
The spinster caressed the strings of the gilt harp gently; Bat lounged in a deep chair and talked to her.
“Have you lived in this country very long?” he asked her, finally.