“I saw nothing,” said Chris. “I just listened, but she saw them.”
“Lord!” said Nicholas again, and rode on in profound silence.
The Maxwells were to stay to supper at the Court; and drive home afterwards; so there was no opportunity for Chris to go down and bathe in the lake as he usually did in summer after a day’s hunting, for supper was at seven o’clock, and he had scarcely more than time to dress.
Nicholas was very talkative at supper, and poured out all that Chris had told him, with his usual lack of discretion; for the other had already told the others once all the details that he thought would interest them.
“They were talking about the divorce,” he broke out, and then stopped and eyed Ralph craftily; “but I had better not speak of that here—eh, Chris?”
Ralph looked blandly at his plate.
“Chris did not mention that,” he said. “Tell us, Nick.”
“No, no,” cried Nicholas. “I do not want you to go with tales to town. Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of that.”
Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed.
“No, Nick,” he said.