Then, suddenly, he said: “I suppose Roseye couldn’t have dropped any hint to her father? If so, the latter might have spoken to Eastwell—or somebody else!”
“Roseye made to me a solemn promise of secrecy, and I trust her, Teddy,” I said very quietly.
“So do I, my dear fellow. So do I,” he assured me.
“Well—I can’t fathom the mystery at all. Evidently they were on some desperate errand—or they wouldn’t have knocked poor old Theed senseless—eh? And the woman! Who could she have been?”
“Who knows?” I asked. “Nevertheless, we must make it our business to find out, my dear chap,” I added in earnestness. “We’ve got secret enemies somewhere—probably around us here. Indeed, that has been my firm conviction for some time.”
“And mine also. So let us keep open eyes everywhere. Where’s Roseye? Is she coming over this afternoon?”
“I expect her every minute. She’ll be astounded and excited.”
“You won’t tell her—shall you? It will only alarm her, Claude—and I never advocate alarming a woman.”
I paused. Instantly I realised the weight of such an argument, for Roseye was, after all, a dainty and highly-strung little person, who might worry herself over the mystery far too much.
“Yes, Teddy,” I said somewhat reluctantly. “I quite agree. At present we’d best leave matters as they are, and keep our own counsel.”