"Perhaps you don't know Mr. Furneaux," said Winter, "a small-built gentleman——"
"Oh, yes, sir, I know him," the girl answered. "I let him in this morning, as well as when he called some days ago."
No words in the English tongue could have more astonished Winter, for Furneaux had not mentioned to him that he had even been to Osborne's. What Furneaux could have been doing there "some days ago" was beyond his guessing. Before his wonderment could get out another question, the girl was leading the way towards the library.
In the library were Miss Prout, writing, and Jenkins handing her a letter.
"I came to see if Inspector Furneaux was here," Winter said; "but evidently he has gone."
"Only about three minutes," said Hylda Prout, throwing a quick look round at him.
"Thanks—I am sorry to have troubled you," he said. Then he added, to Jenkins: "Much obliged for the cigars!"
"Do not mention it, sir," said Jenkins.
Winter had reached the library door, when he stopped short.
"By the way, Jenkins, is this Mr. Furneaux's first visit here?—or don't you remember?"