Richard was obliged to say that that was not his season for buying horse-flesh, and, thanking Mr. Puddephatt, he left the wineshop. ‘A house near the chalk-pits,’ he mused. Then he turned back. ‘I’ll let you know about the room later in the day,’ he said to Mr. Puddephatt. ‘Right, sir,’ answered Mr. Puddephatt. Richard could not refrain from speculating as to how much Mr. Puddephatt already knew about the Craigs and how much he guessed at. Mr. Puddephatt was certainly a man of weight and a man of caution. The wine-merchant’s eyes continually hinted at things which his tongue never uttered. CHAPTER V--FIRE The luncheon with Teresa was a pronounced social success. French rather than Irish in character, it was eaten under a plum-tree in the orchard. Micky waited at table with his hat on, and then disappeared for awhile. At two o’clock he rose again above the horizon, and said that the electric car was at the door. Richard and Teresa set off to meet the two-thirty train at Leighton Buzzard. By this time they had certainly become rather intimate, according to the way of young persons thrown together--by no matter what chance--in the month of June--or any other month. It was not, perhaps, unnatural that Raphael Craig, when he emerged from the railway-station and found the two laughing and chatting side by side in the motor-car, should have cast at them a sidelong glance, in which were mingled amusement, alarm, and warning. Mr. Raphael carried the large brown portmanteau, which was now--as Richard discovered by handling it--quite empty. On the journey home Teresa drove the car, and her father sat by her side. Richard occupied the rear of the car, giving a hint occasionally as to the management of the machine. ‘I think I have nothing further to do here,’ he said when the party had arrived safely at Queen’s Farm. ‘Both the other cars are in order. I will therefore bid you good-day. Should anything go wrong with this car, you will doubtless let us know.’ He spoke in his most commercial manner, though his feelings were far from commercial. Raphael Craig bent those dark, deep eyes of his upon the youth. ‘I have been telephoning to your firm this morning,’ said Craig, ‘and have arranged with them that you shall take the Panhard back to town. They are going to take it off my hands--at a price.’ ‘With pleasure,’ said Richard. ‘But,’ Mr. Craig continued, ‘I wish to use the Panhard this week-end. Therefore you cannot remove it till Monday.’ ‘Very good,’ said Richard, ‘I will present myself on Monday morning.’ ‘And in the meantime?’ ‘In the meantime I have other business for my firm in the neighbourhood.’ Teresa’s glance intercepted her father’s, and these two exchanged a look. The old man frowned at his daughter. ‘Good-day,’ said Richard. Raphael and Teresa shook hands with him. Was he a conceited ass, or did Teresa really seem grieved? ‘Till Monday,’ said Teresa.