“Has she ever asked about this place—about Little Farncombe—or about myself?”
“No, never. Why?”
Roddy hesitated. Then he answered:
“Oh! well, I thought she might be a little inquisitive—that’s all?” He did not tell her that it was his father, the rector, who had declared her to be a woman of a very undesirable type. It was that woman’s handsome, evil face that ever and anon arose in his dreams. She was the woman under whose influence he had acted against his will, utterly helpless while beneath her dominating influence and only half-conscious in his drugged state.
And such a woman was Elma’s friend!
“Do you know anything of Mr Harrison?” Roddy asked, whereupon she replied that she did not know much about him, but that her father would know. Then she called across to him:
“I say, dad, what do you know about Bertram Harrison—Freda Crisp’s friend?”
At mention of the latter name the rector’s face changed.
“Bertram Harrison?” echoed the great financier. “Oh! He is partner in a French financial house. Hornton is having some business with him. Mrs Crisp is a relative of his—his sister, I believe. Why do you ask?”
The rector sat silent and wondering.