However, he got out, and took off his hat with a courteous sweep. Doris
had to look twice at him. Hitherto, she had always seen him in uniform.
Winter smiled at the unmistakable expression of relief in her face. She
was almost self-possessed as she took the seat by his side.
"Good day, Mr. Winter," she said.
"Mr. Franklin, please. Better become used to my pseudonym.... Plenty of
room for your feet, Mr. Fowler? That's it. Now we're comfy. The chauffeur
will bring us back here in half an hour, Miss Martin. Will that suit your
convenience?"
"Oh, yes. I am free till nearly four o'clock. We have a guest to
tea then."
"I have a well-developed bump of curiosity these days. Who is it,
may I ask?"
"Mr. Siddle, the local chemist."
"Indeed. An old friend, I suppose?"
"We have known him seven years, ever since he came to Steynholme."
"Ah. He is not a native of the place?"
"No. He bought Mr. Benson's business. He's a Londoner, I believe."
"Is there--a Mrs. Siddle?"
"No. I--er--that is to say, gossip has it that he was married, but his
wife died."
"He doesn't speak of her? Is that it? One would have thought that in a
house where he is well known--"
"We don't really know him well.
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