ving till now?"

"Here, and there, and everywhere; wandering over the face of the globe!
A great deal of the furniture comes from India and Egypt; and one of the
workmen came over to ask cook for some hot water one day, and said he
believed the master had been travelling abroad. I wanted cook to pump
him to find out more, but she said mother had forbidden her to gossip
about the neighbours. Such a nuisance! I love gossiping about my
neighbours. I remember when I was a little girl, how I used to adore
being in the drawing-room when callers came and discussed the affairs of
the village. I knew I should be sent away if I appeared to listen, so I
used to sit and pretend to play with a doll or a book, while my ears
were fairly sticking out of my head with curiosity."

"You little hypocrite! I wouldn't have believed you could have been so
deceitful. But do tell us if you know anything of the Vanburghs, Mr
Talbot. Did you ever meet any one of the name?"

"I met a man once--a fellow about my own age. He was at Oxford with me,
but not at the same college. I saw very little of him."

"That could not be the father, of course. He would have to be a son,
and we never arranged for boys. What sort of man was he?"

"Humph!"

"I beg your pardon."

"Humph!"

"What does that mean? What sort of man is supposed to be represented by
`Humph!' may we ask?"

Silence! Ned Talbot screwed up his lips and shook his head with
determined obstinacy. The girls stared at him in silence for a good two
minutes. Then Maud spoke again.

"Do you decline to say anything but `Humph' on the subject, Ned?"

"Absolutely!"

"How very interesting!" Nan clasped her hands in delight. "How
mysterious! How gloomy! How frightfully suspicious! I'm sure there's
something very dreadful about him, and in that case he will be even more
interesting than the girls."

"Nan!"

"I can't help it. We know so many estimable people that it would be
delightful to meet somebody bloodthirsty, for a change. Everything in
Waybourne is so painfully commonplace that we are simply spoiling for a
mystery, as the Americans would say. Now, Mr Talbot won't commit
himself to a definite charge, but his silence is more impressive than
words. I'm sure there's a mystery: something too gruesome and terrible
to be divulged."

"You leap to conclusions, Nan. Perhaps I had better state at once that
there is nothing at all mysterious about the man I mentioned--