“Dorchester,” she repeated slowly. “I wonder whether you know a place called Cheriton?”
“I know it very well indeed. A kinsman of mine lives there. Lord Cheriton is my cousin.”
“I thought as much, directly I heard your name. You must know all about that dreadful murder, then—last summer?”
“Yes, I know about as much of it as any one knows, and that is very little.”
“They have not found the murderer?” she asked, with a faint shudder.
“No, nor are they ever likely to find him, I believe. But tell me why you are interested in Cheriton. Do you come from that part of the country?”
“Yes.”
“Were you born in Cheriton village?”
“I was brought up not far from there,” she answered, hesitatingly.
He remembered what Miss Newton had told him of her own forbearance in asking questions, and he pursued the inquiry no further.