“I am sorry my brother is out,” said Ena. “Mr. Halley has been very kind in putting our wireless set right, and it has made a great difference to us in the evenings, as there are no amusements in the village.”
“You are living in Portham, Mr. Halley?” asked Fletcher.
“My health has not been good,” replied the other in a frigid tone, which Ena was quick to notice was very different from his normal voice. “And I find the air of this place does me good.”
“And have you been here long?” asked Fletcher with a disregard for courtesy.
“A few weeks only,” replied the other.
Fletcher was puzzled, for there was a haunting suggestion in his mind that he had met Halley before, though he could not recollect where or when he had done so. He could not continue to ask questions of a stranger he had just met, but made a mental note for further inquiry.
“I hope you have succeeded in getting a suitable bungalow, Mr. Fletcher,” said Ena.
“Not yet, Miss Sefton, but I have my eye on one called The Red Cote which seems to be empty. Do you know it?”
“Only by sight,” she replied, but Fletcher had been watching Halley out of the corner of his eye, and saw him give a slight start at the name.
Somehow he felt in the way, as though he were not quite welcome, and the thought vexed him; he was annoyed to find Halley so much at home, and turning to him he said, “Are you coming my way by any chance?”