“I only returned home three days ago. My journey to Beechcroft was a hasty resolve. This is my friend, Mr. Reginald Brett. He was just about to explain to Mr. Capella the object of our visit when you came in.”
Neither husband nor wife looked at the other. Mrs. Capella was flustered, indulging in desperate surmises, but she laughed readily enough.
“I heard a noise in this room, and then the bell rang. I thought something had happened. You know—I mean, I thought there was no one here.”
“I fear that I am the culprit, Mrs. Capella. Your husband was good enough to invite us to enter by the window, and I promptly disturbed the household.”
Brett’s pleasant tones came as a relief. Capella glared at him now with undisguised hostility, for the barrister’s adroit ruse had outwitted him by bringing the lady from the drawing-room, which gave on to the garden and lawn at the back of the house.
“Please do not take the blame of my intrusion, Mr. Brett,” said Margaret, with forced composure. “You will stay for luncheon, will you not? And you, Davie? Are you at Mrs. Eastham’s?”
Her concluding question was eager, almost wistful. Her cousin answered it first.
“No,” he said. “We have driven over from Stowmarket.”
“And, unfortunately,” put in the barrister, “we are pledged to visit Mrs. Eastham within an hour.”
The announcement seemed to please Mrs. Capella, for some reason at present hidden from Brett. Hume, of course, was mystified by the course taken by his friend, but held his peace.