“He has not, but unless the fool who took my ’phoned telegram at the Post Office bungled it in transmission he has the facts.”
“I look forward to seeing him.”
“So do I. Good Lord, the night you dropped in on us, Bannerlee, I thought this was Lost Man’s Vale. Sir Brooke omitted to appear, as you know; but I had already been waiting three days for Heatheringham!”
“Three days!”
“Since the Parson Lolly trouble had become serious. I had sent word for him to come as a guest; he had accepted. And until yesterday’s wire, I haven’t heard another word from him.”
It was rather low of me, but I could not resist the second temptation to prod Crofts a little. I said:
“I hope you don’t mind my pointing out that you haven’t a particle of proof that wire came from Heatheringham at all, or that your message actually reached him, or that he’s alive. How can you tell that you haven’t been betraying secrets to some unknown enemy, or at least to some shrewd newspaper reporter?”
My host seemed to shrink to about half his size.
To-night’s dinner was the first orderly meal since Cosgrove’s death. It was good to see people eating again with the suggestion of appetite. Even Miss Lebetwood had come down and had lost her tense, restrained look of earlier hours. Opposite me, Lib, most fresh and radiant, more genuinely girlish than I can remember her before, smiled on me mystifyingly.
The men had reverted to the English fashion of remaining behind the ladies. When we rose from the table I buttonholed Salt.