"Yes, Freda Crisp. Do you know her? Isn't she awfully jolly?"

"I only know her by sight, Elma. What do you know of her? Tell me," he asked, lowering his voice again.

"Oh! not really very much. Her friend, Mr Bertram Harrison, is a business friend of father's. They are, I believe, carrying on some negotiations concerning a company in Ma.r.s.eilles."

"But Mrs Crisp. How did you come to know her?"

"Why?"

"Because I am very interested," Roddy said, deeply in earnest.

"Lady Hornton, the wife of father's partner, introduced us when I was staying at Fawndene Court, their place in Suffolk, about six months ago.

Mr Harrison came there to dine and sleep. But Freda never fails nowadays to come to our party, and she has hosts of friends in town."

"Where does she live?" he asked eagerly.

"At a big old house called Willowden, beyond Welwyn, on the Great North Road."

The young man made a mental note of the address. Could it have been to that house he had been taken? If he saw it again possibly he would remember it.

"Why are you so inquisitive about her?" asked the girl.

"For several reasons," he replied. "I was once warned against her, Elma. And I would repeat the warning to you," he said, looking straight into the beautiful eyes of the girl he loved so deeply.

"But why?" she asked, staring at him. "Freda is an awfully good friend of mine?"

"Has she ever been down here?"

"No. We've always met in town."

"Has she ever asked about this place--about Little Farncombe--or about myself?"

"No, never. Why?"

Roddy hesitated. Then he answered:

"Oh! well, I thought she might be a little inquisitive--that's all?" He did not tell her that it was his father, the rector, who had declared her to be a woman of a very undesirable type. It was that woman's handsome, evil face that ever and anon arose in his dreams. She was the woman under whose influence he had acted against his will, utterly helpless while beneath her dominating influence and only half-conscious in his drugged state.

And such a woman was Elma's friend!

"Do you know anything of Mr Harrison?" Roddy asked, whereupon she replied that she did not know much about him, but that her father would know. Then she called across to him:

"I say, dad, what do you know about Bertram Harrison--Freda Crisp's friend?"

At mention of the latter name the rector's face changed.

"Bertram Harrison?" echoed the great financier. "Oh! He is partner in a French financial house. Hornton is having some business with him.

Mrs Crisp is a relative of his--his sister, I believe. Why do you ask?"

The rector sat silent and wondering.

"Mr Homfray knows Mrs Crisp, and has just asked me about Mr Harrison."

"Oh! you know Freda, do you?" exclaimed Mr Sandys, addressing the young man. "A very intelligent and delightful woman, isn't she? She has been a wonderful traveller."

"Yes," replied Roddy faintly. "I--well, I was surprised when I knew that she was a frequent visitor at Park Lane."

"Why?"

"For certain reasons, Mr Sandys," was the young man's hard reply, "certain private reasons."

"You don't like her, that's evident," laughed the grey-bearded man.

"No, I don't," was Roddy's blunt answer, as his eyes met those of his father.

"Well, she's always most charming to me?" declared Elma.

"And she has never mentioned me?" he asked. "Are you quite sure?"

"Never?"

"Of course, I only know her through Harrison," Mr Sandys said. "He introduced her to my partner, Sir Charles Hornton, whose wife, in turn, introduced her to Elma. She comes to our parties and seems to be very well known, for I've seen her in the Park once or twice with people who move in the best circles."

"I know you'll pardon me, Mr Sandys," Roddy said, "but I merely asked your daughter what she knew of her. Please do not think that I wish to criticise your friends."

"Of course not," laughed the financier. "All of us at times make social mistakes, especially men in my own walk of life. I am frequently compelled to entertain people whose friendship I do not desire, but whom I have to tolerate for purely business purposes. But, by the way," he added, "I should much like to hear more concerning this concession in Morocco in which you are interested. Shall you be in London to-morrow?

If so, will you look in and see me about noon in Lombard Street?"

"Certainly," replied Roddy with delight, and half an hour later father and son walked back through the frosty night to the Rectory.

On the way Roddy referred to the conversation concerning the woman Crisp, but his father remained pensive and silent.

He merely remarked:

"I had no idea that that woman was friendly with Miss Sandys."

Next day at the hour appointed Roddy pa.s.sed through the huge swing doors in Lombard Street which bore a great bra.s.s plate with the inscription: "Sandys and Hornton," and a commissionaire at once conducted him up in the lift to Mr Purcell Sandys' private room.

The elderly man was seated smoking a cigar by the fire of the big apartment which, with its red Turkey carpet and large mahogany table, was more like a comfortable dining-room than a business office. He welcomed his visitor to an arm-chair and at once pushed over a box of cigars.

Then, when Roddy had lit one, he rose, and standing astride upon the hearthrug, he looked at him very seriously and said:

"I really asked you here, Homfray, to put a question to you--one which I trust you will answer with truth."

"Certainly I will," the young man replied frankly.

The old man fixed him with his deep-set eyes, and in a strange voice put to him a question which caused him to gasp.