“Oh, nothing, sir! It was just—we were talking, you know.”
Lawrence looked at her. He had the feeling of something kept back.
“I wonder very much what her interview with Colonel Protheroe was about.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I believe you know, Rose?”
“Me? Oh, no, sir! Indeed I don’t. How could I?”
“Look here, Rose. You said you’d help me. If you overheard anything, anything at all—it mightn’t seem important, but anything … I’d be so awfully grateful to you. After all, anyone might—might chance—just chance to overhear something.”
“But I didn’t, sir, really, I didn’t.”
“Then somebody else did,” said Lawrence acutely.
“Well, sir—”
“Do tell me, Rose.”
“I don’t know what Gladdie would say, I’m sure.”
“She’d want you to tell me. Who is Gladdie, by the way?”
“She’s the kitchenmaid, sir. And you see, she’d just stepped out to speak to a friend, and she was passing the window—the study window—and the master was there with the lady. And of course he did speak very loud, the master did, always. And naturally, feeling a little curious—I mean—”
“Awfully natural,” said Lawrence, “I mean one would simply have to listen.”