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So saying, he took his sheathed rapier from his belt, and passing the point through the silk thread which secured the letter, he once more, and literally at sword point, gracefully tendered it to Major Bridgenorth who again waved it aside, though colouring deeply at the same time, as if he was putting a marked constraint upon himself drew back, and made Sir Jasper Cranbourne a deep bow.
"Half a mind to give him a shout," he thought, but on reflection "I don't know though, he seems in the deuce of a hurry and I can't imagine he's any work to give away." It would have saved Cranbourne a lot of trouble if he had followed his first inclination. Not a word had been received from Cranbourne. From the moment he left Lord Almont's flat he disappeared completely.
"Guess there's more behind it than that. What are they hoping on, anyway?" "Donno donno." But the sudden appearance of Sydney Cranbourne did something to enlighten them. "Forgive my intrusion, gentlemen," he said, "but could you give me a possible date on which we might expect the return of our mutual friend?" Neither Hipps nor Van Diest betrayed the smallest surprise.
The less he knows the better." "Quite." "There isn't a cupboard, I suppose, where you could fix yourself up with an easy chair until well until the kidnapping is over." "There's a wine cupboard." "Excellent. We'll have a word together before you go." There was a knock and Doran came in and addressed Cranbourne. "The gentleman wishes to have a word with you, sir."
If you would lend me an arm, Lord Almont, we will speak a word of farewell to Barraclough through the wine cellar door." It was Cranbourne, who at the door of the flat thought of a final precaution, excused himself to his companions and asked leave to enter the bathroom.
Chap who had scraped up a few guineas perhaps to do himself well on the bust. No, that won't do. Ordered his dinner too well for that. Had the air of a man accustomed to the best places. Brown said so. A shilling and five coppers to the porter. Queer kind of tip! What in blazes was the fellow doing? What sort of company does he keep?" Cranbourne jumped into a taxi and returned to the Berkeley.
Cranbourne had taken it to imply that there had been no time to dress but why not accept it literally. Two whole days wasted looking at men in white shirt fronts and black coats! "Lord, what an idiot I am. Alter your line of thought and alter it quick." He began to walk briskly, muttering to himself as he strode along. "No dress clothes deuce of an appetite.
But he loved, and was honestly proud of, his beautiful home St. Giles's House, near Cranbourne; and when he received his guests, gentle or simple, at "The Saint," as he affectionately called it, the mixture of stateliness and geniality in his bearing and address was an object-lesson in high breeding.
The Manchester hat stuck in Cranbourne's throat a trifle since it widened the circle of enquiry. The porter at the revolving door believed the gentleman had gone toward Piccadilly walking. Yes, he was sure he hadn't taken a cab. Gave him a shilling and five coppers. Cranbourne thanked them and spent the rest of the day passing in and out of every well known grill room in London.
Cranbourne went out and a moment later the front door slammed. Then Richard began to laugh. "Kidnapped, eh! What a game. Doran!" The last word rang out imperatively. "Sir," came the reply. "Have I got any clothes?" "In the bedroom, sir." "Righto." He put his feet into a pair of slippers, donned a bath gown and shuffled into the adjoining room. At the door he paused to survey the appointments.
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