The arm belonged to Mrs. Danvers. I recognized the black sleeve. I wondered for a minute if it was a public day and she was showing the rooms. It could not be so though because Frith always did that, and Frith was out. Besides, the rooms in the west wing were not shown to the public. I had not even been into them myself yet. No, I knew it was not a public day. The public never came on a Tuesday. Perhaps it was something to do with a repair in one of the rooms. It was odd though the way the man had been looking out and directly he saw me he whipped back into the room and the shutters were closed. And the car too, drawn up behind the rhododendrons, so that it could not be seen from the house. Still, that was up to Mrs. Danvers. It was nothing to do with me. If she had friends she took to the west wing it was not exactly my affair. I had never known it happen before though. Odd that it should occur on the only day Maxim was from home.
I strolled rather self-consciously across the lawn to the house, aware that they might be watching me still from a chink in the shutters.
I went up the steps and through the big front door to the hall. There was no sign of a strange cap or stick, and no card on the salver. Evidently this was not an official visitor. Well, it was not my affair. I went into the flower room and washed my hands in the basin to save going upstairs. It would be awkward if I met them face to face on the stairs or somewhere. I remembered I had left my knitting in the morning room before lunch, and I went along through the drawing room to fetch it, the faithful Jasper at my heels. The morning room door was open. And I noticed that my bag of knitting had been moved. I had left it on the divan, and it had been picked up and pushed behind a cushion. There was the imprint of a person on the fabric of the divan where my knitting had been before. Someone had sat down there recently, and picked up my knitting because it had been in the way. The chair by the desk had also been moved. It looked as though Mrs. Danvers entertained her visitors in the morning room when Maxim and I were out of the way. I felt rather uncomfortable. I would rather not know. Jasper was sniffing under the divan and wagging his tail. He was not suspicious of the visitor anyway. I took my bag of knitting and went out. As I did so the door in the large drawing room that led to the stone passage and the back premises opened, and I heard voices. I darted back into the morning room again, just in time. I had not been seen. I waited behind the door frowning at Jasper who stood in the doorway looking at me, his tongue hanging out, wagging his tail. The little wretch would give me away. I stood very still, holding my breath.
Then I heard Mrs. Danvers speak. “I expect she has gone to the library,” she said. “She’s come home early for some reason. If she has gone to the library you will be able to go through the hall without her seeing you. Wait here while I go and see.”
I knew they were talking about me. I began to feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was so furtive, the whole business. And I did not want to catch Mrs. Danvers in the wrong. Then Jasper turned his head sharply towards the drawing room. He trotted out, wagging his tail.
“Hullo, you little tyke,” I heard the man say. Jasper began to bark excitedly. I looked round desperately for somewhere to hide. Hopeless of course. And then I heard a footstep quite close to my ear, and the man came into the room. He did not see me at first because I was behind the door, but Jasper made a dive at me, still barking with delight.
The man wheeled round suddenly and saw me. I have never seen anyone look more astonished. I might have been the burglar and he the master of the house.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, looking me up and down.
He was a big, hefty fellow, good-looking in a rather flashy, sunburnt way. He had the hot, blue eyes usually associated with heavy drinking and loose living. His hair was reddish like his skin. In a few years he would run to fat, his neck bulging over the back of his collar. His mouth gave him away, it was too soft, too pink. I could smell the whiskey in his breath from where I stood. He began to smile. The sort of smile he would give to every woman.
“I hope I haven’t startled you,” he said.
I came out from behind the door looking no doubt as big a fool as I felt. “No, of course not,” I said, “I heard voices, I was not quite sure who it was. I did not expect any callers this afternoon.”
“What a shame,” he said heartily, “it’s too bad of me to butt in on you like this. I hope you’ll forgive me. The fact is I just popped in to see old Danny, she’s a very old friend of mine.”
“Oh, of course, it’s quite all right,” I said.