The lady assumed the voice of a sucking dove.
"Tea! Why, I thought you'd be out to—"
The lady shot into the passage and shut the door behind her. After a moment she put her head in and said to Julian:
"I'll be back in a minute. She's in a rare tantrum. I must go down and help her. Pardon."
And she vanished like a flash.
Julian sat feeling rather guilty. To distract himself he got up and looked at the photographs on the mantelpiece. Most of them were of men, but there were two or three girls in tights, and there was one of a stout and venerable woman, evidently highly respectable, seated in an arm-chair, with staring bead-like eyes, but a sweet and gentle mouth. Her hair was arranged in glossy bands. Her hands held a large book, probably a Bible. Julian looked at her and wondered a little how she chanced to be in this galère. Then he started and almost exclaimed aloud. For there, at the end of the mantelpiece, was a cabinet photograph of Marr. He was right then in his suspicion. The lady of the feathers was also the lady at the "European."
"Sorry to keep you waiting," said a voice behind him.
There was a clatter of crockery. His hostess entered bearing a tray, which held a teapot, cups, a large loaf of bread, and some butter, and a milk-jug and sugar-basin. She plumped it down on the table.
"Mrs. Brigg wouldn't make toast," she explained. "And I didn't like to keep you."
"Let's make some ourselves," said Julian, with a happy inspiration.