They went into the house, leaving Mrs. Peters on the lawn, deeply stirred. "That man has a past," she determined. "He looked simply terrified. I wonder if I ought to ask Charles.... I wonder if it would be right to.... And they are strangers ... one never knows...." She thought sternly for a moment and then got up, resolution in her countenance. "It's a duty," she murmured—"a positive duty. And Charles is so weak."
The martyr to duty was going to listen at the door.
CHAPTER XVIII
TONY AT WORK AND AT PLAY
If the telephone had been in the vicar's study Mrs. Peters might have watched in vain; for to acquire accurate information through a keyhole needs practise or unusually keen ears. But the vicar wanted perfect quiet to prepare his sermons, and it was agreed that the instrument should be placed in the dining-room. This suited Mrs. Peters admirably, for there was a dumb-waiter between that room and the pantry. Standing on the other side of the hatch (which she raised with caution a couple of inches) she could hear all that passed, secure in the reflection that a screen concealed the hatch and butler's tray. This is what she heard as soon as the vicar had left the room.
"Mr. Wild, I told you that I would rather not——"
"Duty, Bangs, duty! Remember that! You've allowed your unhappy wife to mourn——"
"No, no! I thought it better not to write just yet, in case——"
"Pure funk, and nothing else. No, Bangs; you ought to let her know—you ought to have let her know before this. Besides, there's no danger: she can't spot where you are."