“Do you like that Captain Levison?” she abruptly inquired, when they were beyond hearing.
“I cannot say I do,” was Mr. Carlyle’s reply. “He is one who does not improve upon acquaintance.”
“To me it looks as though he had placed himself in our way to hear what we were saying.”
“No, no, Barbara. What interest could it bear for him?”
Barbara did not contest the point; she turned to the one nearer at heart. “What must be our course with regard to Thorn?”
“It is more than I can tell you,” replied Mr. Carlyle. “I cannot go up to the man and unceremoniously accuse him of being Hallijohn’s murderer.”
They took their way to the house, for there was nothing further to discuss. Captain Levison entered it before them, and saw Lady Isabel standing at the hall window. Yes, she was standing and looking still, brooding over her fancied wrongs.
“Who is that Miss Hare?” he demanded in a cynical tone. “They appear to have a pretty good understanding together. Twice this evening I have met them enjoying a private walk and a private confab.”
“What did you say?” sharply and haughtily returned Lady Isabel.
“Nay, I did not mean to offend you,” was the answer, for he knew that she heard his words distinctly in spite of her question. “I spoke of Monsieur votre mari.”