There was a brief silence, during which Farr's eyes were fixed moodily on the carpet.
"I called to see your sister," he began at length, "the day before we left Hetherford, but she excused herself."
"I don't think Jean knew of your visit."
"You are mistaken," he returned bitterly. "The servant who admitted me had received orders that Miss Jean would not see me, and she made that fact patent to me beyond the possibility of any doubt."
"I cannot help that," said Helen, her determination to pursue the subject struggling against a sudden timidity. "I am sure you are wrong. I remember the afternoon perfectly. Nathalie and I had been to the inn, and when we reached home I found Jean on the sofa in her room, and I asked her if anyone had called, and she said 'no.'"
A puzzled expression crossed Farr's face.
"It is very strange. Why, Miss Helen, I wrote and asked your sister if she would see me, and she replied that she would be at home at the hour I mentioned in my note."
All at once there flashed through Helen's mind a recollection which suggested a most cruel suspicion. Farr was looking straight at her, his honest eyes demanding an honest answer.
"I cannot explain it, Mr. Farr," she said slowly, "but I feel perfectly safe in answering you that it was all a mistake, and that Jean never knew of your call at the manor."
"And what of the message the servant gave me? Forgive me, Miss Helen, if I seem to press you, but this is no light matter to me."