Harrowby was interested too. His dark eyes quite gleamed.
"I suppose she is in bed by now," he said. "If it were not so late,
I should beg you to have her brought down so that we might have a
look at her. I'm by way of taking a psychological interest."
"I'm psychological myself," said the Starling. "But what do you
mean, Feather? Are you in earnest?"
"Andrews is," Feather answered. "She could manage measles but she
could not be responsible for shock. But she didn't find out about
the love affair. I found that out--by mere chance. Do you remember
the day we got out of the victoria and went into the Gardens,
Starling?"
"The time you spoke to Mrs. Muir?"
Coombe turned slightly towards them.
Feather nodded, with a lightly significant air.
"It was her boy," she said, and then she laughed and nodded at
Coombe.
"He was quite as handsome as you said he was. No wonder poor Robin
fell prostrate. He ought to be chained and muzzled by law when he
grows up."
"But so ought Robin," threw in the Starling in her brusque, young
mannish way.
"But Robin's only a girl and she's not a parti," laughed Feather.
Her eyes, lifted to Coombe's, held a sort of childlike malice.
"After his mother knew she was Miss Gareth-Lawless, he was not
allowed to play in the Gardens again. Did she take him back to
Scotland?"
"They went back to Scotland," answered Coombe, "and, of course,
the boy was not left behind.
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