“No. They were all in the housekeeper’s room, looking at the Indian curiosities which her son in Canada had sent to her. I had left my bird on the dresser—and I ran into the kitchen to put the cage in a safe place, being afraid of the cat. One of the swinging windows in the skylight was open; and I heard voices in the back room above, which is Mrs. Farnaby’s room.”
“Whose voices did you hear?”
“Mrs. Farnaby’s voice, and Mr. Goldenheart’s.”
“Mrs. Farnaby?” Jervy repeated, in surprise. “Are you sure it was Mrs.?”
“Of course I am! Do you think I don’t know that horrid woman’s voice? She was saying a most extraordinary thing when I first heard her—she was asking if there was anything wrong in showing her naked foot. And a man answered, and the voice was Mr. Goldenheart’s. You would have felt curious to hear more, if you had been in my place, wouldn’t you? I opened the second window in the kitchen, so as to make sure of not missing anything. And what do you think I heard her say?”
“You mean Mrs. Farnaby?”
“Yes. I heard her say, ‘Look at my right foot—you see there’s nothing the matter with it.’ And then, after a while, she said, ‘Look at my left foot—look between the third toe and the fourth.’ Did you ever hear of such a audacious thing for a married woman to say to a young man?”
“Go on! go on! What did he say?”
“Nothing; I suppose he was looking at her foot.”
“Her left foot?”