He seemed puzzled and troubled, but he was too well bred to ask why I was not sure. Instead he asked when she would return. I announced that I did not know that either.
“You don't know when she is coming back?” he repeated.
“No.”
He regarded me keenly. There was a change in the tone of his next remark.
“You are not sure that she is in London and you don't know when she is coming back,” he said, slowly. “Would you mind telling me why she left Mayberry so suddenly? She had not intended going; at least she did not mention her intention to me.”
“She did not mention it to anyone,” I answered. “It was a very sudden determination on her part.”
He considered this.
“It would seem so,” he said. “Knowles, you'll excuse my saying it, but this whole matter seems deucedly odd to me. There is something which I don't understand. You haven't answered my question. Under the circumstances, considering our talk the other evening, I think I have a right to ask it. Why did she leave so suddenly?”
I hesitated. Mayberry's principal thoroughfare was far from crowded, but it was scarcely the place for an interview like this.
“She had a reason for leaving,” I answered, slowly. “I will tell you later, perhaps, what it was. Just now I cannot.”