"Haven't you a car?" Bee said, looking at the empty sweep in front of the door.
"I left it parked at the end of your drive there. I've never got used to sweeping up to strange houses as if I owned them."
With which startling exhibition of modesty the little man bowed, put on his hat, and walked away.
13
In the library, as the voices of Bee and Mr. Macallan faded down the hall and into the out-of-doors, there was silence. Brat, uncertain of the quality of that silence, turned to the shelves and began to consider the books.
"Well," said Simon, lounging in the window, "another hazard safely negotiated."
Brat waited, trying to analyse the sound of the words while they still hung in the air.
"Hazard?" he said at length.
"The snags and bunkers in the difficult business of coming back. It must have taken some nerve, all things considered. What moved you to it, Brat-homesickness?"
This was the first frank question he had been asked, and he suddenly liked Ashby the better for it.