“No. I oughtn’t to have said what I did. But, of course, I didn’t dream that Mr. Penfield really meant anything. Shall we go out into the garden?”
Rodney opened the door for her and they passed out to where their three companions sat in deck chairs facing the sea. Two chairs had been placed for them, and, as they seated themselves, Varney remarked:
“I take it that the oracle has spoken; and I hope he was more explicit than oracles are usually.”
“He was explicit and discreet—especially discreet,” Margaret replied.
“Oh, they are always that,” said Varney; “discretion is the oracular specialty. The explicitness is exceptional.”
“I believe it is,” replied Margaret, “and I am glad you set so much value on it because I am coming to you, now, for information. Mr. Rodney tells me that Dan said something to you about Falmouth. What was it?”
“He said he was going to call in there; at least, so I understood.”
“But he wasn’t, you know. He was going direct to London and straight on to Oulton the same night. You must have misunderstood him.”
“I may have done, but I don’t think I did. Still, he only mentioned the matter casually and I wasn’t paying particular attention.”
Margaret made no rejoinder and the party became somewhat silent. Phillip, realizing Margaret’s uneasy preoccupation, engaged Dr. Thorndyke in an animated conversation respecting the natural history of the Cornish coast and the pleasures of dredging.