Laying the fish down, while Mr. Round explained to the squire and Jason how his niece had caught the poacher⁠—and it turned out, as the innkeeper went on, that this poacher was none other than Lobbie Torp, who had been over there soon after dawn⁠—Wolf stood aside, conversing with Miss Elizabeth.

“I congratulate you on your uncle’s recovery,” he said. “I often felt so sorry for you after that day we met at the pond.”

The “automatic young lady” wetted her lips with the tip of a little snakelike tongue and whispered something almost inaudibly. Wolf drew back further with her till they were out of hearing of the rest.

“I don’t know why I should tell you this, Mr. Solent,” she said, with an air of sentimental hesitation.

“I’m afraid I didn’t hear,” he replied rather coldly.