"Let's have some tennis this morning," said Miss York. "We haven't tried the lawn yet. You play, don't you, Mr. Northcote?"
Having never touched a tennis racquet in my life, I was reluctantly driven to lie.
"I think I'll look on and applaud," I said. "The car back-fired the other day, and my wrist's still reminding me of it."
There was a general murmur of sympathy, which Maurice capped by inquiring, I thought a little anxiously, whether I was sure I felt up to shooting.
"Oh yes," I said; "I can still hold a gun straight."
After some discussion, it was agreed that Miss York and Maurice should take on her brother and Vane. Vane, it appeared, was the duffer of the party, while York, having played for the army, was evidently a cut above the others.
The tennis lawn lay at the side of the house, and after breakfast was over, and we had had a look at the morning papers, we took out some chairs and placed them in the shadiest spots we could find which commanded a view of the court. I was just settling myself down when I saw Aunt Mary coming towards me.
So far I had had very little conversation with my hostess, her manner at our first meeting, though courteous enough superficially, having plainly showed me that I was by no means a welcome guest from her point of view. Since then, however, she had perceptibly thawed, and on the present occasion she came up to me with a smile on her kindly, rather worried, face.
"I want to have a little talk with you, Stuart," she said as I pulled round a chair for her.
"By all means," I answered, wondering what she might be leading up to. "We've hardly had the chance of a chat since I came."