“Because,” Miss Sibson replied, “the lady was not known to be in this part of England; and because you, sir, maintained that Miss Smith had left the parcel in the coach.”
“I maintained what I was told.”
“But it was not the fact. However, let that pass.”
“No,” Vaughan retorted, with some warmth. “For it seems to me, Madam, very extraordinary that in a matter which was capable of so simple an explanation you should have elected to insult a stranger—a stranger who——”
“Who was performing no more than an office of civility, you would say?”
“Precisely.”
“Well—yes.” Miss Sibson spoke slowly, and was silent for a moment after she had spoken. Then, somewhat abruptly, “You are an usher, I think,” she said, “at Mr. Bengough’s?”
Vaughan almost jumped in his chair. “I, Madam?” he cried. “Certainly not!”
“Not at Mr. Bengough’s?”
“Certainly not!” he repeated, with indignation. Was the woman mad? An usher? Good heavens!