Presently he thought he heard the house door open and shut, and a little while after the library clock struck ten.
Now it would be only the natural thing to go and say good-night to his daughters, and, possibly, to inquire after a headache.
The Squire accordingly emerged.

In the hall he found his three daughters engaged in lighting their candles at the Chippendale table, where for about a hundred and fifty years the ladies of Mannering had been accustomed to perform that rite.
The master of the house inquired coldly whether Miss Bremerton had returned safely.

'Oh yes,' said his daughter Margaret, 'but she went up to bed at once.

She hasn't got rid of her headache.' Mrs.Strang's stiff manner, and the silence of the others showed the Squire that he was deep in his daughters' black books.

Was he also charged with Miss Bremerton's headache?
Did any of them guess what had happened?
He fancied from the puzzled look in Pamela's eyes as she said good-night to him that she guessed something.
Well, he wasn't going to tell them anything.