"There have been inquiries for the widow; these have caused me much anxiety."
"Widow! Whose widow?"
"Madame, the widow of the dear master. It seems that there are persons anxious to see her. There have been inquiries, one—two—three times."
"Probably some of her American friends anxious to pay their respects, or some of the neighbors making calls of courtesy," I suggested.
"A foreign gentleman who acts very queerly," Antoine persisted.
My uncle's widow was a vague, unknown being whom I had never expected to cross my horizons. If she meditated a descent upon Barton-on-the-Sound, the trust company would certainly have had some hint of her approach, but Torrence clearly had had no tidings of her beyond her last communication from Bangkok. Still, it was wholly possible that a globe-trotting widow would have friends in many parts of the world, and I could see nothing disturbing in the fact that inquiries had been made for her. I said as much. Antoine's answer was another shrug and a jerk of his head toward Flynn, as though even the employment of an alien tongue might not conceal our conversation from the big Irishman. Antoine was manifestly impatient at my refusal to be aroused by his hints of discord among his associates and my lack of interest in the inquiries for Mrs. Bashford. When we had reached the farm and were running through the grounds Antoine spoke again:
"We thought we would put you up at the house, Mr. Singleton, and not in the garage," he said inquiringly.
"Not at all, Antoine," I answered quickly. "We must stick close to the law in such matters."
"Very good, sir. Stop at the garage, Flynn."
To the casual observer the garage was a charming two-story house following the general lines of the plaster and timber residence, from which it was separated by a strip of woodland and a formal garden. The garage and quarters for the chauffeur were at one end and at the other were a down-stairs living-room, with a broad fireplace, and three chambers above so planned as to afford a charming view of the Sound, whose shore curved in deeply at this point. On the chauffeur's side was a small kitchen from which I had been served with my meals when I lodged there. This thoroughly convenient establishment was the only place I could call home, and I experienced a pleasurable sense of comfort as I opened the door into the snug living-room.