then," retorted Mr. Portgartha. "I tried her two or
three times more, but couldn't get a word out of her. Well, at last I
began to get narvous, thinkin' she might be a sperit. So I leant across to
her an' says, 'Caan't you say a word, miss? It's only Peter Portgartha
speaking, he's well known for his respect for your sect. No young womon
need be frightened of speakin' to Peter Portgartha.' And with that she
spaaks at last, with a quick little gasp like a sob--I'm thinking I can
hear it at this minute--'Aw,' she says, 'why caan't you leave me alone?'
'Never be afraaid,' I says, for I have my pride like other folk, 'I'll say
no more. Peter Portgartha has no need to foorce his conversation where it
ain't welcome.'"

"A strange girl!" said Barrant, beginning to feel an interest in the
story. "Have you no idea who she was?"

"Wait a bit," continued Mr. Portgartha, evidently objecting to any
intrusion on his right, as narrator, to a delayed climax. "Well, there we
sat, like two ghoostes, till we got to Penzance, but all the time I was
thinkin' to mysel' that I'd find out who she was. I sed to myself I'd ride
on to the station, instid of gettin' out a piece this side of it so as to
make a short cut across to the Mouse's Hole, as I usually do. But that
stupid old fule Garge pulled up as usual and bawls through the window,
'Are you going to keep me here all night, Peter?' Before I could say a
word the young womon says: 'I'll get out here.' With that she puts the
fare into his hand through the open window, and slips out afore I knew
what she was going to do. If it hadn't been for my rhoomatics, which I got
in the war, I'd 'a followed her. As it was, I couldn't."

"So you didn't see her face, after all?" asked Barrant quickly.

"I didn't, in a manner of speakin'. But I did get a glimpse of her as she
passed near the lamp-post--just a half-sight of two big dark eyes in a
white face as she went past. I wouldn't 'a thought no more of it," added
Mr. Portgartha, laying an impressive hand on his companion's knee, "but
for what happened at Flint House last night."

"What's that got to do with it?" In his quickened interest Barrant vainly
strove to make his voice appear calm.

"Because the young womon must have coome from Flint House."

Barrant scrutinized his companion sharply in the dim light. "Why do you
think so?" he asked.

"For'n thing, the wayside crass where she picked up the wagonette is not
far from Flint House by acras