Hugh had misrepresented the facts; he was not eating at all.

Instead, he was merely toying with his fork, making uncertain circles in the layer of brown, gravy which covered the plate, his cheek resting on the other hand, a faraway look of distress in his eyes.

They were directed at the plate, but saw it not.
"Poor fellow," she murmured compassionately; "he's been awfully sick, hasn't he ?" "Oh, I don't know," said Hugh heartlessly.

"They don't go to eating in a day's time if they have been very sick." A bright look flashed into her eyes and they danced with merriment as she whispered something in his ear.
"By George, maybe you're right.

He's a detective and chasing us to earth." The stranger looked at them in a half interested manner when they laughed aloud over the harrowing supposition.