"Pretty conclusive, I should say." He paused for a few moments,
then moved a little irresolutely. "Don't think me impertinent, old
man," he went on with a sidelong glance, "but I imagined from your
manner you were holding something back. Is there more in the story
than you told?"

It was now Merriman's turn to hesitate. Although Madeleine Coburn
had been in his thoughts more or less continuously since he returned
to town, he had never mentioned her name, and he was not sure that
he wanted to now.

"Sorry I spoke, old man," Hilliard went on. "Don't mind answering."

Merriman came to a decision.

"Not at all" he answered slowly. "I'm a fool to make any mystery of
it. I'll tell you. There is a girl there, the manager's daughter.
I met her in the lane when I was following the lorry, and asked her
about petrol. She was frightfully decent; came back with me and
told her father what I wanted, and all that. But, Hilliard, here's
the point. She knew! There's something, and she knows it too. She
got quite scared when that driver fixed me with his eyes, and tried
to get me away, and she was quite unmistakably relieved when the
incident passed. Then later her father suggested she should see me
to the road, and on the way I mentioned the thing - said I was
afraid I had upset the driver somehow - and she got embarrassed at
once, told me the man was shell-shocked, implying that he was queer,
and switched off on to another subject so pointedly I had to let it
go at that."