II
Tommy and Tuppence stared at each other in bewilderment.
“Well,” said Tommy, “something’s happened in that house to scare ourfriend Reilly pretty badly.”
Tuppence drew her finger absently across the gatepost.
“He must have put his hand on some wet red paint somewhere,” shesaid idly.
“H’m,” said Tommy. “I think we’d better go inside rather quickly. I don’tunderstand this business.”
In the doorway¹ of the house a white-capped maidservant was standing,almost speechless with indignation.
“Did you ever see the likes of that now, Father,” she burst out, as Tommyascended the steps. “That fellow comes here, asks for the young lady,rushes upstairs without how or by your leave. She lets out a screech² like awild cat—and what wonder, poor pretty dear, and straightaway he comesrushing down again, with the white face on him, like one who’s seen aghost. What will be the meaning of it all?”
“Who are you talking with at the front door, Ellen?” demanded a sharpvoice from the interior of the hall.
“Here’s Missus,” said Ellen, somewhat unnecessarily.
She drew back, and Tommy found himself confronting a grey-haired,middle-aged woman, with frosty blue eyes imperfectly concealed⁴ by pince-nez, and a spare figure clad in black with bugle⁵ trimming.
“Mrs. Honeycott?” said Tommy. “I came here to see Miss Glen.”
“Mrs. Honeycott gave him a sharp glance, then went on to Tuppence andtook in every detail of her appearance.
“Oh, you did, did you?” she said. “Well, you’d better come inside.”
She led the way into the hall and along it into a room at the back of thehouse, facing on the garden. It was a fair-sized room, but looked smallerthan it was, owing to the large amount of chairs and tables crowded intoit. A big fire burned in the grate, and a chintz-covered sofa stood at oneside of it. The wallpaper was a small grey stripe with a festoon of rosesround the top. Quantities of engravings and oil paintings covered thewalls.
It was a room almost impossible to associate with the expensive person-ality of Miss Gilda Glen.
“Sit down,” said Mrs. Honeycott. “To begin with, you’ll excuse me if I sayI don’t hold with the Roman Catholic religion. Never did I think to see aRoman Catholic priest in my house. But if Gilda’s gone over to the ScarletWoman, it’s only what’s to be expected in a life like hers—and I dare say itmight be worse. She mightn’t have any religion at all. I should think moreof Roman Catholics if their priests were married — I always speak mymind. And to think of those convents—quantities of beautiful young girlsshut up there, and no one knowing what becomes of them—well, it won’tbear thinking about.”

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