“And what occurred afterwards?” Pink inquired eagerly.
“They were evidently frightened lest what the poor girl had said in ’er ravings might arouse your curiosity a bit too much, for they were early astir this mornin’, and by eleven they paid me and all of ’em left, walkin’ by separate ways over to Oundle station, Jim Pywell a-takin’ in their trunks on a wagon.”
“But the young lady?” the doctor exclaimed. “Was she well enough to walk?”
“Yes. She was bandaged, of course, but she ’ad one o’ them big feather ruffles that ’id her throat an’ the lower part of ’er face. When she said ‘good-bye’ to me she looked like a corpse—poor thing.”
“Then she said nothing about Logan’s attack upon her?” I asked. “She appeared anxious to get away with the others?”
“Very,” replied the old farmer. “She seemed to fear that she had said somethin’ which would reveal what they were all tryin’ to keep secret.”
“Now tell me, Mr Hayes,” I said, facing him very seriously. “Tell me one thing. Have you ever heard any of your mysterious visitors mention the name of Lejeune?”
The old fellow leaned heavily on his stick, scratched his white head and thought hard a moment.
“Ler—june,—Ler—june,” he repeated. “Why, I believe that’s the name by which the gentleman called Dick addressed the young lady when he came to see Mister Logan the other day! I recollect quite distinctly now. I’ve been a-tryin’ an’ a-tryin’ to remember it—an’ couldn’t. Yes. It wor Ler—june—I’m certain. Do you happen to know her, sir?”