Leslie, dazzled by the glare of the lantern and bewildered by the inconsequence of the question, hesitated.
“Miss Allen? I saw her in the village yesterday—no, the day before. Why?”
“Did she say anything about expecting a visitor?”
Leslie blinked and turned his face away from the blinding light.
“She said she was expecting her sister, a Mrs. Something-or-other. She mentioned the name, but I’ve forgotten it.”
“You wouldn’t recognize the lady if you saw her?”
“I shouldn’t think so, unless she’s some one I’ve met in some other part of the world. I’ve never seen her here, if that’s what you mean.”
“Doesn’t often stay with her sister, eh?”
“I don’t think so. Miss Allen didn’t say much about her, but, from what she did say, I gathered that they were not very intimate. She mentioned that she’d proposed herself and seemed rather surprised at it.”
He saw no reason to repeat Miss Allen’s actual words. That elderly and very downright spinster had spoken with her usual incisive frankness. “What Tina’s up to, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Some mischief, I’ll be bound, and possibly crooked mischief at that. I don’t trust her. She’s got some good reason for wanting to spend a week with her old sister. I told her she could stay as long as she liked, provided she didn’t try to ride my horses. She’s got a seat like a sack of potatoes; and as for her hands! Luckily scented cigarettes and a chair by the fire are more in her line.”