“Much easier.”

“I am quite at your service.  Suppose we clear the ground to begin with?  Are you at liberty to mention names?”

“No.”

“Places?”

“No.”

“Dates?”

“Do you want me to be particular?”

“Be as particular as you can.”

“Will it do, if I say the present year?”

“Yes.  Were your friend and the lady—­at some time in the present year—­traveling together in Scotland?”

“No.”

“Living together in Scotland?”

“No.”

“What were they doing together in Scotland?”

“Well—­they were meeting each other at an inn.”

“Oh?  They were meeting each other at an inn.  Which was first at the rendezvous?”

“The woman was first.  Stop a bit!  We are getting to it now.”  He produced from his pocket the written memorandum of Arnold’s proceedings at Craig Fernie, which he had taken down from Arnold’s own lips.  “I’ve got a bit of note here,” he went on.  “Perhaps you’d like to have a look at it?”

Sir Patrick took the note—­read it rapidly through to himself—­then re-read it, sentence by sentence, to Geoffrey; using it as a text to speak from, in making further inquiries.

“‘He asked for her by the name of his wife, at the door,’” read Sir Patrick.  “Meaning, I presume, the door of the inn?  Had the lady previously given herself out as a married woman to the people of the inn?”

“Yes.”

“How long had she been at the inn before the gentleman joined her?”

“Only an hour or so.”

“Did she give a name?”

“I can’t be quite sure—­I should say not.”

“Did the gentleman give a name?”

“No.  I’m certain he didn’t.”

Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum.

“’He said at dinner, before the landlady and the waiter, I take these rooms for my wife.  He made her say he was her husband, at the same time.’  Was that done jocosely, Mr. Delamayn—­either by the lady or the gentleman?”

“No.  It was done in downright earnest.”

“You mean it was done to look like earnest, and so to deceive the landlady and the waiter?”

“Yes.”

Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum.

“‘After that, he stopped all night.’  Stopped in the rooms he had taken for himself and his wife?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened the next day?”

“He went away.  Wait a bit!  Said he had business for an excuse.”

“That is to say, he kept up the deception with the people of the inn? and left the lady behind him, in the character of his wife?”

“That’s it.”

“Did he go back to the inn?”

“No.”

“How long did the lady stay there, after he had gone?”

“She staid—­well, she staid a few days.”

“And your friend has not seen her since?”

“No.”