“Yes, called at the Continental last night and had half an hour’s chat with her. She seems well enough, and had booked her passage to New York from Cherbourg on the eighteenth.”
“And what’s the latest about young Homfray?” asked the handsome woman, divesting herself of her furs.
“I was just discussing him with Jimmie. He seems to have unearthed one or two things while poking about at Little Farncombe.”
“Yes. But there’s one fact that I’ve discovered to-day—a very important fact,” she said.
“Well, what’s the trouble now?” asked Gray. “Young Homfray is watching us!”
“Watching us? What do you mean?” asked the man, turning pale. “Has the old man told him about us?”
“He may have done. That we can’t tell. Only I found out that the other night Homfray was watching outside Purcell Sandys’ house in Park Lane, and saw me go in with Arthur. He inquired our names of one of the servants.”
“Gad! Then he’s already recognised you—eh?” cried Gray. “That’s horribly awkward.”
“It is—in many ways! We must devise some plan to close the young man’s mouth.”
“But how, Freda?”