“I suppose both you and your cousin quitted Mrs. Eastham’s house by that side-door and entered the park through the wicket?”
“Yes,” assented Hume, “though I fail to see why you should hit upon the side-door rather than the main entrance.”
“Because the ball-room is built out at the back. It was originally a granary. The conservatory opens into the garden on the other side. As there was a large number of guests, Mrs. Eastham required all her front rooms for supper and extra servants, so she asked people to halt their carriages at the side-door. I would not be surprised if the gentlemen’s cloak-room was provided by the saddle-room there, whilst the yard was carpeted and covered with an awning.”
Brett rattled on in this way, heedless of his companion’s blank amazement, perhaps secretly enjoying it.
Hume was so taken aback that he stood poised on the step of the vehicle and forgot to slip the reins into the catch on the splashboard.
“I told you none of these things,” he cried.
“Of course not. They are obvious. But tell this good lady that we are going to the Hall.”
Both the main gate and wicket were fastened, and the lodge-keeper’s wife was gazing at them through the bars.
“Hello, Mrs. Crowe, don’t you know me?” cried Hume.
“My gracious, It’s Mr. David!” gasped the woman.