"It's the privilege of age," I said, slowing up the car as we came round to the front door. "I'll meet you at dinner, and hear all about it."
Any remark York may have wished to make was cut short by the appearance of the butler.
Lady Baradell, looking extremely unlike a suffragette, stepped daintily out, and in another minute I was speeding away again down the drive on my way back to Woodford.
I was burning to tell Billy about my latest discoveries, but when I reached the Plough I discovered, as I had feared would be the case, that he had not yet returned from his man-hunting expedition on the marshes. I put the car away in the garage, and hung about for the best part of an hour and a half in the vain hope that he would turn up. Finally, I went into the lounge and wrote him a short note, which I gave to the barmaid. I told him that I had made some novel and highly interesting additions to our stock of knowledge, and begged him to turn up at Ashton next morning without fail. Then, feeling that I had already been long enough away to excite Maurice's suspicions, I set off on my way back to the house.
I reached Ashton, curiously enough, just at the same time as the carriage. As a matter of fact, it passed me in the drive, and when I got up to the front door, I found Maurice and the others standing round the porch.
"Well, I hope you are properly ashamed of yourself, Northcote," cried York, with a laugh. "Here we are, four hopeless wrecks, while you and Vane and Baradell have been selfishly enjoying yourselves."
"Was it as bad as that?" I asked sympathetically. "How is the vicar, and how are the turnips?"
"The vicar's all right," returned Miss York, with a wry face. "He was there at tea."
"Was that the vicar?" observed Lady Baradell dryly. "I thought it was one of the turnips."
There was a general laugh, which was interrupted by the appearance of Maurice's man, carrying a telegram on a silver tray.