I did.

Kendal had made out with the naked eye a figure, the figure of a woman, seated on the hillside, a white figure that showed plainly against the red background of the heather.

“It’s Mrs. Jevons, sir,” he stated.

It was.

I could see her quite distinctly through the field-glasses.  She was sitting on the clump of heather to the right of the sandy patch, settled and motionless, in the attitude of one who waited at her ease, with hours before her.  And she was alone.

We went on as far as we could towards the moor.  Norah and I left the car and struck across the moor by the sandy track that led to the bare patch and the clump of heather.

The seated figure must have been aware of us from the first moment of our approach.  You couldn’t miss that black and white car as it charged along the highway, or as it stood now, with its engines still humming, by the roadside.  But the figure remained seated in its attitude of waiting.  It waited while we crossed the moor; and as we climbed the hillock we became intensely aware of it and of its immobility.

We saw its face fixed on us with an expression of tranquil patience and expectation.  I may say that I felt an intolerable embarrassment before this quietness of the hunted thing that we had run to earth; especially as it was on me, and not Norah, that Viola’s face was fixed as we came nearer.

Then she smiled at me; there was neither conciliation nor defiance in her smile, but a sort of serene assurance and—­yes, it was unmistakable—­contempt.

She said, “Whatever do you think you’re doing now?”

I said we might not know what we were doing, but we knew what we were going to do.  We were going to take her back with us in the car.

At that she asked us (but without any sign of perturbation) if we had got Jimmy there?

Norah said No, our idea was to run back to Amershott before Jimmy got there.

“Where were you running to when you saw me sitting up here?” she said.

I said we’d meant to catch her at Selham but we missed the train and were trying to get to Horsham before the London train started.

She was looking at me now with a sort of compassion, the tenderness of her contempt.

“I see,” she said.  “You were clever, weren’t you?”

She looked at her watch.  “Well, as you are here,” she said, “I’d let you run me down to Horsham, if you want a run, only I can’t very well use Jimmy’s car.”

I think it was Norah who asked her what on earth she was doing at Fittleworth.

“Can’t you see,” she said, “that I’m waiting for the next train?”

“Did you walk here from Amershott, or what?” I said.

She said, “Rather not.  I was in the train.”

Then Norah said, “What happened?”

It had dawned on us both how odd it was that Viola should be here, apparently alone, at Fittleworth.  It was also odd how we were all ignoring Charlie.  I believe I had a sort of idea that she had got him hidden somewhere in the landscape.