She made up her mind to talk to that man on the subject. He was the only one to whom she could talk about it, and it was impossible to go on any longer hugging this awful secret in solitude…That would be the best. He might be angry at Marshall 's breach of confidence, but perhaps it would be possible to contrive that that should not come out. She need not decide now. When she got home she would think about it all out carefully, weighing the affair in all its bearings…
Her watch told her that it was close upon half-past three. It was evident that she had been somewhere all that time…Then suddenly she realized the absence of her scarf. Uttering an exclamation of annoyance, she quickly cast her eyes around for the missing article, but it was nowhere visible in the hall, and she had not been in any other part of the house. She concluded that she must have dropped it out of doors-perhaps where they had picnicked in that field. She did not value the scarf highly, but it was vexing to lose it so stupidly. It would not take long to run there and back before the others came downstairs again.
Passing out of the hall-door, she retraced their route to the place where they had lunched, keeping a sharp watch for the bright, silken fabric, which ought to catch the eye quickly enough. She covered the whole distance, only stopping short at the little stream, but failed to see it anywhere. Then, recollecting that Blanche might possibly have picked it up and taken charge of it, she returned more quietly to the house.
The little distraction had at least one good result, it enabled her for a few minutes to forget that other thing, thereby permitting her nerves to tranquillise themselves, and in consequence she was now in a position to meet her friends again with tolerable coolness. On re-entering the hall she found them waiting for her; they seemed to have just come down.
Even before anyone spoke, Isbel was conscious of a changed atmosphere. An air of constraint hung over the little party, and for a moment she had a guilty feeling that this embarrassment was in some way connected with herself. No one remembered to inquire after the condition of her head.
Blanche addressed her with a cold smile: "We seem to be playing at hide-and-seek this afternoon. First Mr. Judge loses himself, and then you."
"I'm exceedingly sorry. I missed my scarf, and went outside to look for it. You haven't picked it up by any chance?"
"No."
"It doesn't matter, but it's gone."
"You haven't been upstairs, have you?"
"No-oh, no. Why?"
"You needn't look so startled-I only meant you had it round your neck when we went up. It was the last thing I saw."
"Surely not!" said Isbel, much puzzled.
"Were you in the hall all the time, up to the moment you missed it?"
"Yes."
Blanche shrugged her shoulders, and turned away.
"Mrs. Stokes must be mistaken, and you must have dropped it out of doors," suggested Judge. "I'll tell Priday to institute a thorough search for it. When found, I'll send it on."
"Thank you very much!"
Isbel kept stealing perplexed glances at Judge, and each time she did so she surprised him in the act of hastily averting his eyes from her. She could not imagine why they were regarding each other with such furtive interest. As far as she knew, nothing had changed in their relations since they had last spoken together, yet now it seemed as if they had a great deal to say to each other which they had somehow failed to discover at the time. She wondered how she could get to speak to him again.
"How did Mr. Judge contrive to get lost, then?" she inquired of Roger, who appeared the most approachable of the trio.
"With perfect ease. Blanche and I were wandering about the premises, like Adam and Eve turned out of Eden, for the space of half an hour."
"I can only repeat my apologies," said Judge rather stiffly. "I admit it was a most unpardonable breach of courtesy."
Isbel looked from one to another. "How did it come about, then?"
"The explanation is not very much to my credit, Miss Loment, but I fear I have no right to stand on dignity. We had come downstairs from the top storey, after visiting the East Room, and were about to enter the drawing-room, when I suddenly remembered that I had omitted to lock that other room again-which is to break my own rule. Mrs. Stokes was kind enough to allow me a couple of minutes' leave of absence to attend to the business…"
"Which Mr. Judge promptly extended to half-an-hour," said Blanche, with her back still turned.
"Why, what happened?"
"A somewhat absurd accident, Miss Loment. Whether it was the hot sun, or the wine, I don't know, but I fell asleep upstairs."
"How funny!" Isbel began to laugh.
Blanche swung round. "But the funniest thing was that when we went upstairs to look for him he was nowhere to be found."
"I repeat, Mrs. Stokes-because you looked in the wrong place. I was in one of the servants' rooms. I recollected having seen a window left open, and went along to shut it."
"Quite a chapter of accidents!" said Isbel. "However, the main thing is we're all happily assembled again, safe and sound, after our various adventures. Did you see anything interesting, Roger?"
"Much. The house is a veritable pot-pourri of styles and centuries. I have counted three distinct periods, and perhaps there are more."
Judge entered the conversation with a visible effort. "This hall is one, the main body of the house is another, but what is the third?"
"Why, the East Room. There's old, old, very old work there, unless I'm crassly ignorant. One of the rafters of the ceiling is carved with runes. That was placed there by no Elizabethan hand."
"You said nothing about this at the time?"
"I had no audience, my dear proprietor. My lady-wife was gazing around for ghosts, while you were deep in abstract thought, and did not once remove your eyes from the blank wall they chanced to alight on."
"But what would be the object of this carving?" demanded Isbel hurriedly.
"Doubtless a magic formula employed by our heathen Saxon forefathers to prevent the goblins from riding the roof-a favourite supernatural pastime of the olden days. Were I Judge, I would fain remove the timber and send it to our authorities to be deciphered."
"Perhaps I will," said Judge.
Isbel did not listen to Roger very attentively: she was cogitating Judge's story. She did not believe that he had spoken the truth. A quite different explanation of his disappearance had dawned on her, and with Isbel's intuitions from dawn to full day was but a flash. On his return to the East Room, he had seen that the staircase again which he had seen so many times before. He had ascended it, and-her heart beat rapidly-they two had met up there!…That was why they had been glancing at each other so strangely…She was as sure of it all as if she had heard it from his own mouth.
She turned aside in sick excitement.
"We'd better get home," remarked Blanche coldly. "It's nearly four, and I shan't be sorry for some tea?"
Judge glanced at her rather anxiously "Would you prefer to stop somewhere en route?"
"We'll get home, I think."
As there was nothing to wait for, they at once left the hall. The girls went in front, but as soon as they were outside Blanche accompanied her husband to the car, leaving the others on the doorstep while Judge prepared to lock up.