They went through the conservatory into the park, and sauntered over the springy pastureland, whilst Brett amused the ladies by a carefully edited account of his visit to the Jiro family.
An hour passed in pleasant chat. Then Miss Layton thought it was time she went home, and Brett proposed to escort her to the Rectory, subsequently picking up his conveyance at the inn.
They walked obliquely across the park towards the house, regaining it through a clump of laurels and the conservatory.
It chanced that for a moment they were silent. Margaret led the way. Helen followed. Brett came close behind.
When the mistress of Beechcroft Hall stepped on to the turf in front of the library, a man who was standing under the yews a little way down the avenue moved forward to accost her.
She uttered a little cry of alarm and retreated quickly.
“Why, Davie,” cried Helen, “surely it cannot be you!”
The stranger made no reply, but paused irresolutely. Even in the dim light Brett needed no second glance to reveal to him the astounding coincidence that this mysterious prowler was Robert Hume-Frazer.
“Good evening,” he said politely. “Do you wish to see your cousin?”
“And who the devil may you be?” was the uncompromising answer.