Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
“I had hoped, my lady,” he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret, “and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we need not pursue that matter any further....”
Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
“We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton,” she said, “for the able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and tell him my opinion.”
Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
“Your ladyship is too good,” he said.
Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
“Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton,” she said. “I should like to speak to you alone for a minute!”
She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark hair.
“We will walk down the drive,” she said to the detective, who, rather astonished, had followed her. “We can talk freely out of doors.”