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He scowled down at her growing smile.

“She slapped ye?” she whispered.

“I barely felt it,” he whispered back.

“Well, she did leave a mark…”

A knock sounded at the front door, and he and Poppy both peered down the short corridor leading to the sitting room.

“Answer the door, will ye?” he asked.

Poppy hesitated, glancing from him to Miss Hollow before another knock occurred. With a sigh, she gave Trevik a look of warning that rivaled Mother’s. “Don’t be harrassin’ ’er, Trevik,” she said under her breath, then she scurried down the corridor.

Trevik took advantage of her absence the moment she was gone, facing Miss Hollow from the doorway again. “I be sorry for wakin’ ye, but I ’ad a few questions.”

A shadow crossed over Miss Hollow’s face. “I already told your mother I don’t remember much.”

“Yes, she did mention that.” He paused, her stare warning him off. But who was she to prevent him from ensuring those who stayed in his home wouldn’t harm his family? “So ye can’t remember where ye came from, then?”

She shook her head with a wince.

“But ye remember your name?”

Her upper lip twitched, and she responded with a flat, “Yes.”

He was upsetting her, that much was clear. But was it due to his questioning, or the fact that he’d caught on to her lies? “I s’pose ye don’t remember why ye were in the sea in the first place?”

She gave him a passive look. “Not at all.”

Her response was far too scripted. She was lying. Again.

“Trevik!”

He looked to his side, still standing in the doorway of Poppy’s room. Poppy motioned him closer from where she stood down the corridor, a portmanteau in her hands.

He glanced at Miss Hollow. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, then he moved toward Poppy.

“Gryffyn dropped this off,” she whispered, raising the portmanteau higher. Raindrops speckled the brown, faded leather. “Young Charlie found it ’tween a few rocks on the beach while ’e be lookin’ for crabs. ’E thinks it might belong to the mermaid.”

“She ain’t be no mermaid.” He reached for the portmanteau, setting about to remove the clasps that secured it closed, but Poppy reached forward to stop him.

“What ye be doin’?” she whispered, horrified.

“I be lookin’ inside to see if it be ’ers.”

“Why don’t ye just ask ’er?”

“Well surely Gryff already looked through it.”

She propped her hands on her hips with pursed lips. “Then ye oughtn’t need to.”

He paused. Perhaps she had a point. Miss Hollow could either lie about the bag belonging to her or admit that she remembered more than she was letting on. Either way, it would save him from rummaging through someone else’s belongings.

He carried the sturdy portmanteau back down the corridor, Poppy close at his heels. With a tap against the open door, he stopped in the doorway once more.

Miss Hollow’s eyes connected with his before dropping down to the bag in his hands. Her lips parted, and her soft intake of breath told him all he needed to know.

“Ye recognize this, then?” he asked. “A friend of ours found it by the beach.”