“He was so anxious to find out what he looked like. He asked how old he was and how tall, and whether he was quite mad or only a little, and where you picked him up, and when, and what reason you gave for not putting him in some respectable asylum. I could only say that I really knew nothing about him, and that I hadn’t seen him because he had a dread of strangers and I was a little timid.”
She hesitated again.
“I wonder,” she said, still hesitating even after her pause—“I wonder if I ought to mention a rather rude thing I once saw him do?”
“Yes, you ought,” Tembarom answered promptly, “I’ve a reason for wanting to know.”
“It was such a singular thing to do—in the circumstances,” she went on obediently. “He knew, as we all know, that Mr. Strangeways must not be disturbed. One afternoon I saw him walk slowly backward and forward before the west room window. He had something in his hand, and kept looking up. That was what first attracted my attention—his queer way of looking up. Quite suddenly he threw something which rattled on the panes of glass; it sounded like gravel or small pebbles. I couldn’t help believing he thought Mr. Strangeways would be startled into coming to the window.”
Tembarom smiled.
“He did that twice,” he said. “Pearson caught him at it, though Palliser didn’t know he did. He’d have done it three times, or more than that, perhaps, but I casually mentioned in the smoking-room one night that some curious fool of a gardener-boy had thrown some stones and frightened Strangeways, and that Pearson and I were watching for him, and that if I caught him, I was going to knock his block off—bing! He didn’t do it again. Darned fool! And he’d better not try it again when he comes back,” remarked Tembarom.
Miss Alicia’s surprised expression made him laugh.
“Do you think he will come back?” she exclaimed, “after such a long visit?”
“Oh, yes, he’ll come back. He’ll come back as often as he can until he’s got a chunk of my income to treble—or until I’ve done with him.”