I was meekly silent;—­plainly, if she was to talk, every one else must listen.

’During the last few days there have been some queer goings on over the road,—­out of the common queer, I mean, for goodness knows that they always have been queer enough.  That Arab party has been flitting about like a creature possessed,—­I’ve seen him going in and out twenty times a day.  This morning—­’

She paused,—­to fix her eyes on Lessingham.  She apparently observed his growing interest as she approached the subject which had brought us there,—­and resented it.

’Don’t look at me like that, young man, because I won’t have it.  And as for questions, I may answer questions when I’m done, but don’t you dare to ask me one before, because I won’t be interrupted.’

Up to then Lessingham had not spoken a word,—­but it seemed as if she was endowed with the faculty of perceiving the huge volume of the words which he had left unuttered.

‘This morning—­as I’ve said already,—­’ she glanced at Lessingham as if she defied his contradiction—­’when that Arab party came home it was just on the stroke of seven.  I know what was the exact time because, when I went to the door to the milkman, my clock was striking the half hour, and I always keep it thirty minutes fast.  As I was taking the milk, the man said to me, “Hollo, Miss Coleman, here’s your friend coming along.”  “What friend?” I says, —­for I ain’t got no friends, as I know, round here, nor yet, I hope no enemies neither.

’And I looks round, and there was the Arab party coming tearing down the road, his bedcover thing all flying in the wind, and his arms straight out in front of him,—­I never did see anyone go at such a pace.  “My goodness,” I says, “I wonder he don’t do himself an injury.”  “I wonder someone else don’t do him an injury,” says the milkman.  “The very sight of him is enough to make my milk go sour.”  And he picked up his pail and went away quite grumpy,—­ though what that Arab party’s done to him is more than I can say.  —­I have always noticed that milkman’s temper’s short like his measure.  I wasn’t best pleased with him for speaking of that Arab party as my friend, which he never has been, and never won’t be, and never could be neither.

’Five persons went to the house after the milkman was gone, and that there Arab party was safe inside,—­three of them was commercials, that I know, because afterwards they came to me.  But of course they none of them got no chance with that there Arab party except of hammering at his front door, which ain’t what you might call a paying game, nor nice for the temper but for that I don’t blame him, for if once those commercials do begin talking they’ll talk for ever.

‘Now I’m coming to this afternoon.’

I thought it was about time,—­though for the life of me, I did not dare to hint as much.