“It’s only because she has that play of his on the brain,” I answered;
“and because she thinks you superstitious, and likes to tease you.”
“I don’t understand,” sighed Oke.
How could he? And if I had tried to make him do so, he would merely
have thought I was insulting his wife, and have perhaps kicked me out
of the room. So I made no attempt to explain psychological problems
to him, and he asked me no more questions until once—But I must first
mention a curious incident that happened.
The incident was simply this. Returning one afternoon from our usual
walk, Mr. Oke suddenly asked the servant whether any one had come. The
answer was in the negative; but Oke did not seem satisfied. We had
hardly sat down to dinner when he turned to his wife and asked, in a
strange voice which I scarcely recognised as his own, who had called
that afternoon.
“No one,” answered Mrs. Oke; “at least to the best of my knowledge.”
William Oke looked at her fixedly.
“No one?” he repeated, in a scrutinising tone; “no one, Alice?”
Mrs. Oke shook her head. “No one,” she replied.
There was a pause.
“Who was it, then, that was walking with you near the pond, about five
o’clock?” asked Oke slowly.