We found a secluded corner on the terrace which was flooded by warm sunshine. Rogers placed the elderly woman in the most comfortable chair, and the rest of us drew up about her. She was quite calm and collected by now—in fact, almost calculatingly shrewd in her manner—and I did not expect any profit from what she had to say to us. However, I was mistaken.
“Let’s get it over with,” she began at once. “I’ve planned to drive up to see Scotty’s Castle today, and I haven’t any time to waste.”
“We’re quite willing,” said Rogers, grinning cheerfully.
“I never liked Bailey Austin, either as a man or as a son-in-law,” she began without further prompting. “I told my daughter Margaret, when she married him, that she was making a mistake. They were no more suited to each other than anything. He wa
