nks, and she alone, was apparently disturbed by that dog's
infernal barking?"

"It hadn't struck me," I admitted; and just because I had not remarked
that anomaly for myself, I was instantly prepared to treat it as unworthy
of notice. "I suppose her father and mother and the servants, and so on,
heard her let us in," I said.

Jervaise jeered at that. "Oh! my good man," he said.

"Well, why not?" I returned peevishly.

"I put it to you," he said, "whether in those circumstances the family's
refusal to make an appearance admits of any ordinary explanation?"

I could see, now, that it did not; but having committed myself to a point
of view, I determined to uphold it. "Why _should_ they come down?" I
asked.

"Common curiosity would be a sufficient inducement, I should imagine,"
Jervaise replied with a snort of contempt, "to say nothing of a reasonable
anxiety to know why any one should call at two o'clock in the morning. It
isn't usual, you know--outside the theatrical world, perhaps."

I chose to ignore the sneer conveyed by his last sentence.

"They may be very heavy sleepers," I tried, fully aware of the inanity of
my suggestion.

Jervaise laughed unpleasantly, a nasty hoot of derision. "Don't be a
damned fool," he said. "The human being isn't born who could sleep through
that hullabaloo."

I relinquished that argument as hopeless, and having no other at the
moment, essayed a weak reprisal. "Well, what's your explanation?" I asked
in the tone of one ready to discount any possible explanation he might
have to make.

"It's obvious," he returned. "There can be only one. They were expecting
us."

"Do you mean that Miss Banks was deliberately lying to us all the time?" I
challenged him with some heat.

"Why that?" he asked.

"Well, if she were expecting us..."

"Which she never denied."

"And had warned all her people..."

"As she had a perfect right to do."

"It makes her out a liar, in effect," I protested. "I mean, she implied,
if she didn't actually state, that she knew nothing whatever of your
sister's movements."

"Which may have been true," he remarked in the complacent tone of one who
waits to formulate an unimpeachable theory.

"Good Lord! How?" I asked.

"Brenda may have been expected and not have arrived," he explained,
condescending, at last, to point out all the obvious inferences I had
missed. "In which case, my friend, Miss Banks's _suppressio veri_ was, in
my judgment, quite venial