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Warde said nothing, staring at the thin slip of paper as if he were trying to wrest from it its secret. "Everybody called him 'Demon," said John. "Still, one ought to be prepared." For many hideous minutes they sat there, silent, waiting for the second telegram. Dumbleton brought it in, and lingered, anxiously expectant; but Warde dismissed him with a gesture. As the door closed, Warde stood up.
Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring; the peace of Paris had been concluded since March; our commercial relations with the Russian Empire were but recently renewed; and I, returning home after my first northward journey since the war, was well pleased with the prospect of spending the month of December under the hospitable and thoroughly English roof of my excellent friend Jonathan Jelf, Esquire, of Dumbleton Manor, Clayborough, East Anglia.
From time to time he glanced at Beaumont-Greene. Seeing his utter collapse, he rang the bell, answered by the ever-discreet Dumbleton. "Dumbleton, take Mr. Beaumont-Greene to the sick-room. There is no one in it, I believe?" "No, sir." "You will fetch what he may require for the night; quietly, you understand." "Very good, sir." "Follow Dumbleton," Warde addressed Beaumont-Greene.
Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring, the peace of Paris had been concluded since March, our commercial relations with the Russian empire were but recently renewed; and I, returning home after my first northward journey since the war, was well pleased with the prospect of spending the month of December under the hospitable and thoroughly English roof of my excellent friend, Jonathan Jelf, Esq., of Dumbleton Manor, Clayborough, East Anglia.
"I thought I knew your face," he said. "But your name, I regret to say " "Langford, William Langford. I have known Jonathan Jelf since we were boys together at Merchant Taylor's, and I generally spend a few weeks at Dumbleton in the shooting-season. I suppose we are bound for the same destination?" "Not if you are on your way to the Manor," he replied.
When John returned on Sunday to the Manor, shortly after the doors were unlocked in the morning, he found Dumbleton awaiting him. Dumber's face expressed such amazement and consternation that John nearly laughed in spite of himself. "It's all hup, sir," said the butler. Only in moments of intense excitement did Dumber misplace or leave out the aspirate. "You're to come with me at once to Mr.
Dumbleton went out immediately with a sorrowful, backward glance at John. The good fellow looked terribly bewildered. For John's face, John's deportment, had amazed him. John was quite unaware of it, but he looked astonishingly well. Excitement had flushed his cheek and lent a sparkle to his grey eyes.
John took an envelope from the desk, and wrote Scaife's name upon it. "Dumber, please give Mr. Scaife this with my compliments. It is, as you see, a bill of fare." "Very good, sir." John placed the card into the envelope and handed both to Dumbleton. "With my compliments!" "Certainly, sir." "And after Chapel." "Yes, sir." A moment later Warde came in.
No reasons were alleged and no apologies offered for this demand upon my time, but they had heard, it was clear, of my inquiries anent the missing director, and had a mind to put me through some sort of official examination upon the subject. Being still a guest at Dumbleton Hall, I had to go up to London for the purpose and Jonathan Jelf accompanied me.
"You will consider yourself under arrest. Your meals will be brought to you. You will hold no communication with anybody except Dumbleton and me; you will send no messages; you will write no notes. Do you hear?" "Yes, sir." "Then go." Dumbleton opened the door. Young man and servant passed out and into the passage beyond.
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