"One little minute more, my dear…If you don't care about accompanying us, would your aunt, I wonder? You say she is negotiating for the house. Mr. Judge, of course, would bring his car for her."
"I'm afraid if he brought wild horses it wouldn't have the desired effect. She's a very difficult person to move."
"There's nothing like trying. If I were to walk back with you to your hotel, should I find her in?"
"She would be in, but whether she would be visible is quite another matter. I may as well tell you that her interest in Runhill Court is extremely thin at the moment, and as for Mr. Judge-merely to mention his name is like holding out a red cloak to a bull…She fancies he hasn't treated her with an excessive amount of consideration-and that's really why the negotiations are falling on me."
"There would be no harm in my trying, though. I think I will look in on my way to the station. It's the Hotel Gondy, isn't it? I fancy I once stayed there."
"You seem quite well posted," said Isbel, smiling with vexation. "Go, by all means, if you think it's at all likely to answer the purpose. Only, please don't bring my name into it-I particularly request that."
The widow shot her a malicious little glance.
"If it can possibly be avoided, my dear, it shall me. In any case, she shall hear nothing of the letter-I promise you that."
"I begin to see!"
"I can hardly do more, can I? If we aren't to be friends, you really can't expect me to fib for you. Be reasonable!"
"No, u really suppose I can't…The only thing that still puzzles me is why my humble society should be so much in request. Such red-hot zeal in the cause of sight-seeing strikes one as quite uncanny! Surely you can't have told me the whole story?"
"I believe we shall come to terms now. Do you know, my dear, you're ever so much cleverer than I gave you credit for at first." She bestowed on Isbel one of those disarming smiles which she ordinarily reserved for her male acquaintances. "As you're so direct with me, Im going to be equally open with you. Runhill Court is notoriously haunted, and…I'm a spiritist…That explains everything at last, doesn't it?"
Isbel stared at her. "But is it notoriously haunted?"
"Perhaps 'haunted' is a rather misleading term. Shall we say queer? There's a corridor there which is quite celebrated throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom-in psychic circles, it goes without saying. You must know it, since you've been there so many times?"
"Oh, yes-but if that's all, it's not much."
"Not to you, my dear, for you take no interest in such matters, but to anyone who is interested in another world the smallest clue is deeply engrossing. Possibly you have never lost anyone who is very, very dear to you? I have."
"And that's the true reason why I'm to be forced to do something I don't want? Excuse my scepticism, Mrs. Richborough, but you've been rattling out different explanations at the rate of sixty miles an hour for the last ten minutes. I'm not sure whether there are more to come."
The widow threw her a hostile glance. "Such as what?"
"That's what I don't know, and what I am wondering."
"You seem to suggest a personal motive?"
"I suggest nothing at all, but it's very funny…How long have you really know Mr. Judge?"
"Exactly a fortnight to-morrow, my dear. You see, there's no question of intimacy between us."
"What is the extent of his fortune, really? I've never heard."
Mrs. Richborough showed her long, but beautifully white teeth, in a smile. "Has he one? He has that house, of course…I confess I've never heard whether he's rich or poor, and, to tell the truth, it doesn't worry me in the slightest. I'm afraid I'm a dreadfully unmercenary creature; I choose my friends for their distinction of character, and not at all for their money-bags. I've never had anything to do with money, and I hate the very mention of it."
"Then how do you contrive to live?" asked Isbel bluntly.
"Oh, one has an income, of course…still, one leaves all that to one's banker. The great art of living happily, my dear, is to cut your coat according to your stuff…Now, it's getting late-what about to-morrow?"
"I suppose I shall have to say 'Yes,' since you're so very persuasive."
"I felt sure you would relent eventually."
"On condition that the whole thing is kept quiet."
Mrs. Richborough reassured her with effusiveness.
"It had better be in the morning," said Isbel, cutting her short somewhat contemptuously.
"I was going to suggest it. I'm so glad you can fit in-I know how horribly tied you girls are. They call it a free country, yet a girl is a perfect slave to her little circle…Now, will you come over to Worthing by the same train as before? Come straight along to the Metropole, and ask for me. The car will be waiting, and we can start at once-just the three of us."
"How do you know that Mr. Judge will be sufficiently recovered to come?"
"Oh, he will be. There's nothing seriously wrong with him, my dear. I shall pack him off to bed early, and see that he gets a real good night's rest."
Isbel stood up. "He's evidently in good hands."
"Any woman would do that much for him. It would be abominable to leave him to the mercies of the hotel staff." Mrs. Richborough also ascended to ther perpendicular position-a floating mass of soft furs…"You don't wish me to convey a personal message?"
"Oh, say I'm sorry he's unwell, and that the other matter is all right."
She extended her hand, which the widow hastened to grasp warmly. The latter even raised her veil and pushed her face forward, but this was too much for Isbel, who deliberately ignored the invitation. Mrs. Richborough, recognising her faux pas, made all speed to cover it up:
"I hear you're to be married, my dear?"
"Oh, yes…Who told you?"
"Mr. Judge hinted at it…I'm so glad!"
"Thanks! But I wish he'd leave my private affairs alone."
"He's so isolated, and had so little to talk about."
"He has no right to discuss me. I don't like it."
"My dear, it was only the shadow of a hint-perhaps not even that. Perhaps he said nothing at all, and it was merely my intuition…Well, then, good-bye till to-morrow. By the way, if you would care to dash off a few lines to him, I have paper and a fountain pen."
Isbel declined, thinking the offer rather strange. They separated, to go their respective ways.
Five minutes later, as she passed along the now nearly deserted parade towards the hotel, she whipped a hairpin out of her hair, and, halting for a moment, compared it carefully with that which Judge had sent her. They were identical in size and shape…She returned them both to her hair.
Chapter XIII THE LUNCH AT THE METROPOLE
It had been raining heavily, but the sky was rapidly clearing and there were great tracts of blue everywhere as Isbel mounted the steps of the Metropole Hotel at Worthing shortly after noon on the following day. She had been unable to escape from her aunt in time to catch the earlier train, but to compensate for this she was free to spend the whole day as she pleased. By a lucky chance, Mrs. Moor was compelled to go up to town on business.
Judge was waiting in the porch. He grasped her hand warmly, preventing her apologies.
"It was very good of you to come at all, Miss Loment. As far as we are concerned, the time is of no importance. Mrs. Richborough will be here immediately."
Even as he spoke, the widow appeared. Her tall and lovely form was attired as usual in the rich, soft furs and velvets which she so much affected. She moved charmingly, and her grace-fully swaying waist was that of a quite young woman, but Isbel no sooner saw the angular, witchlike face than her old feelings of repugnance and distrust returned.