Still the lady remained silent, her fingers tightly clenched over the cup.

“I knew there was something queer from the start,” he went on. “What’s the matter with you all? Who is this child?”

Then very slowly Miss Gault rose to her feet.

“Come out into the air,” she said brusquely. “I can’t talk to you here.”

They made their way together out of the tent; but they had hardly gone a stone’s throw into the cold March sunshine, when they encountered, without a possibility of retreat or evasion, Mrs. Solent and Mr. Smith advancing resolutely and blamelessly towards the place they were quitting.