"Yes, Anthony Pendennis is the present owner; I knew him well as a young man. But he has lived abroad for many years. Do you know him?"
"Yes, I've met him once, under very strange circumstances," I answered. "I'd like to tell them to you; but not now. I don't want my cousin to know anything about it," I added hastily, for I heard Mary's voice speaking to the maid, and knew she would be out in another minute.
"May I come and see you, Mr. Treherne? I've a very special reason for asking."
He must have thought me a polite lunatic, but he said courteously:
"I shall be delighted to see you at the vicarage, Mr. Wynn, and to hear any news you can give me concerning my old friend. Perhaps you could come this evening?"
"Thanks; that's very good of you. I'll come round after dinner, then. But please don't mention the Pendennises to my cousin, unless she does so first. I'll explain why, later."
There was no time for more, as Mary reappeared.
A splendid old gentleman was the Rev. George Treherne. Although he must certainly have been puzzled by my manner and my requests, he concealed the fact admirably, and steered clear of any reference to Pencarrow or its owner; though, of course, he talked a lot about his beloved Cornwall while we had tea.
"He's charming!" Mary declared, after he had gone. "Though why a man like that should be a bachelor beats me, when there are such hordes of nice women in England who would get married if they could, only there aren't enough men to go round! I guess I'll ask Jane Fraser."
"No,--Jane's all right, but she'd just worry him to death; there's no repose about Jane! Margaret Haynes, now; she looks early Victorian, though she can't be much over thirty. She'd just suit him,--and that nice old vicarage. I'll write and ask her to come down for a week or two,--right now! What do you think, Maurice?"
"That you're the most inveterate little matchmaker in the world. Why can't you leave the poor old man in peace?" I answered, secretly relieved that she had, for the moment, forgotten her anxiety about Anne.
"Bachelorhood isn't peace; it's desolation!" she declared. "I'm sure he's lonely in that big house. What was that he said about expecting you to-night?"
"I'm going to call round after dinner and get hold of some facts on Cornish history," I said evasively.