Foster smiled.  John had softened his imperturbable formality by just the right touch of respectful interest.  In a sense, they were accomplices, but Foster thought if they had committed a crime together, the old fellow would have treated him with unmoved deference as his master’s guest.

“On the whole, I had.  I suppose you met the other car when you turned back at the station?”

“Yes, sir.  I met it coming round the bend.”

“As the road’s narrow, your judgment’s pretty good.  Did anything happen?”

John’s eyes twinkled faintly.  “Not to our car, sir.  The other had the bad luck to run on to the grass where the ground was soft.  In fact, we had some trouble to pull her out.  The gentleman seemed annoyed, sir.”

Foster went to his room chuckling.  He could imagine the deferential way in which John, who had caused the accident, had offered help.  When we went down Alice met him in the hall and he thrilled at something in her manner as she gave him her hand.  It was getting dark and the glow of the fire flickered among the shadows, but there was only one lamp, and as it was shaded the light did not travel far beyond the small table, on which tea was presently served.  This hinted at seclusion and homelike intimacy.  An embroidered cloth half-covered the dark, polished oak, the china was old but unusually delicate, and the blue flame of a spirit lamp burned beneath the copper kettle.

Foster thought everything showed signs of fastidious taste, but there was something austere about it that harmonized with the dignified shabbiness of the house.  It was, for example, very different from the prettiness of the Edinburgh tea-room, and he thought it hinted of the character of the Borderers.  For all that, the society of his companion had the greatest charm.  Alice was plainly dressed, but simplicity became her.  The girl had the Border spirit, with its reserves of strength and tenderness.  Now she was quietly friendly, but Foster knew her friendship was not lightly given and was worth much.

Alice made him talk about his journey and he did so frankly, except that he did not mention his meeting the girl in the tea-room or the detective’s visit to his hotel.  Still he felt a certain embarrassment, as he had done when he told his partner’s story.  It was rather hard to relate his own exploits, and he knew Alice would note any error he was led into by vanity or false diffidence.

“Then it was really to keep a promise to Miss Austin you went to Newcastle,” she remarked presently.  “Since she sent you with the packet, you must know her pretty well.”

“Yes,” said Foster, “in a way, we are good friends.  You see there are not a great many people at the Crossing.”

Alice gave him a quiet glance.  He was not such a fool as to imagine it mattered to her whether he knew Carmen well or not.  But he thought she was not altogether pleased.