“Coming back through the wood?” I interrupted.

 

Caroline had the grace to blush.

 

“It was such a lovely day,” she exclaimed. “I thought I would make a little

round. The woods with their autumnal tints are so perfect at this time of year.”

 

Caroline does not care a hang for woods at any time of year. Normally she

regards them as places where you get your feet damp, and where all kinds of

unpleasant things may drop on your head. No, it was good sound mongoose instinct

which took her to our local wood. It is the only place adjacent to the village

of King’s Abbot where you can talk with a young woman unseen by the whole of the

village. It adjoins the Park of Fernly.

 

“Well,” I said, “go on.”

 

“As I say, I was just coming back through the wood when I heard voices.”

 

Caroline paused.

 

“Yes?”

 

“One was Ralph Paton’s—I knew it at once. The other was a girl’s. Of course I

didn’t mean to listen——”