My ideas were completely upset. I could not see Ackroyd taking a hairdresser into his confidence, and discussing the marriage of his niece and stepson with him. Ackroyd extends a genial patronage to the lower orders, but he has a very great sense of his own dignity. I began to think that Porrott couldn’t be a hairdresser after all.
To hide my confusion, I said the first thing that came into my head.
‘What made you notice Ralph Paton? His good looks?’
‘No, not that alone – though he is unusually good-looking for an Englishman – what your lady novelists would call a greek god. No, there was something about that young man that I did not understand.’
He said the last sentence in a musing tone of voice which made an indefinable impression upon me. It was as though he was summing up the boy by the light of some inner knowledge that I did not share. It was that impression that was left with me, for at that moment my sister’s voice called me from the house.
I went in. Caroline had her hat on, and had evidently just come in from the village.
She began without preamble. ‘I met Mr Ackroyd.’
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘I stopped him, of course, but he seemed in a great hurry, and anxious to get away.’
I have no doubt but that that was the case. he would feel towards Caroline much as he had felt towards Miss Gannett earlier in the day – perhaps more so. Caroline is less easy to shake off.
‘I asked him at once about ralph. he was absolutely astonished. had no idea the boy was down here. he actually said he thought I must have made a mistake. I! A mistake!’
‘Ridiculous,’ I said. ‘he ought to have known you better.’
‘Then he went on to tell me that ralph and flora are engaged.’
‘I knew that, too,’ I interrupted, with modest pride.
‘Who told you?’
‘Our new neighbour.’
Caroline visibly wavered for a second or two, much as if a roulette ball might coyly hover between two numbers. Then she declined the tempting red herring.
‘I told Mr Ackroyd that ralph was staying at the Three Boars.’
‘Caroline,’ I said, ‘do you never reflect that you might do a lot of harm with this habit of yours of repeating everything indiscriminately?’
‘Nonsense,’ said my sister. ‘People ought to know things. I consider it my duty to tell them. Mr Ackroyd was very grateful to me.’
‘Well,’ I said, for there was clearly more to come.