“Well, it seems as though the fellow had some object in coming to stay here as a guest,” I said. “What that object is you yourself know best.”
“Of course he has a motive,” she cried in despair. “But what am I to do? Why didn’t you warn me that you had recognised him?”
I explained briefly how to warn her had been impossible.
“Do you think George noticed my confusion when I opened the door and saw him here?” she asked anxiously.
“I think not,” was my reply. “You so quickly recovered yourself.”
“Ah! But you don’t know how sharp his eyes are. He’s really absurdly jealous sometimes.”
I smiled within myself to think that a woman so fond of admiration and flattery should complain of her husband’s jealousy.
“At any rate, in this affair, you’ll have to act with the greatest caution and discretion, Lady Stanchester,” I said. “The man is here for some sinister purpose—of that I feel quite sure. He arrived in Sibberton a little while ago, tramping along the highway, tired and hungry, a shabby wayfarer, upon whom Warr looked with suspicion. To-day he is your husband’s welcomed guest, to whom he expects you to act with kindness and attention.”
“Kindness!” she ejaculated. “Kindness to that man!”
“Is he such an enemy of yours?” I asked in a low tone. “Why don’t you take me further into your confidence, Lady Stanchester? Surely you can rely upon my discretion?”