She looked at me in a rather surprised way, and it suddenly struck me that I was being a little too pleasant for the real Northcote. Whether "Aunt Mary" was any relation or not I had no idea, but she probably knew my double fairly well, and in that case was doubtless familiar with his character. As writers say, it behoved me to be careful!
Miss York showed more inclination to be friendly. "I hear you've brought your motor, Mr. Northcote," she said. "I hope it's big enough to take us all."
I laughed. "I've brought it as far as Woodford," I said, "and then it struck. However, it will be all right again in a couple of days, I think."
"Beastly fraud, isn't he, Miss York?" observed Sir George Vane, with quite unconscious humour.
"Well, it doesn't matter," put in Maurice languidly. "You couldn't use it if it was here. We're going to shoot to-morrow, the next day is the Cuthberts' garden-party, and the day after that, this cricket-match business that Bertie's got up."
"Oh, cricket!" said Miss York contemptuously. "Bertie's mad about cricket. Do you play, Mr. Northcote?"
"Not often," I replied gravely, and I heard Maurice laugh to himself.
There was a sound of footsteps in the drive, and we all looked up.
"Here are Bertie and Lady Baradell," said Miss York. "I wonder where they've been?"
I suddenly recollected the significant grin with which Maurice had mentioned the Baradells' name, when he had called on me in Park Lane, and with some natural interest I scanned the approaching figures. "Bertie," who, I gathered, was Miss York's brother, was a typical army man of about thirty, but his companion—well, Lady Baradell certainly could not be dismissed with any such cursory notice.