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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I only wanted a word with you," he said. "We're all starving, and if you don't mind we'll get on as quickly as we can. About to-morrow. You shoot with us, of course?" "Delighted!" Duncombe answered. "Cresswell met me at the station," Lord Runton continued. "I'd drawn out a plan for the shoot, but it seems that Cresswell old fool hasn't got his harvest in from the two fields by Ketton's Gorse.
Pelham did not attempt to leave the library. Spencer drew his host a little on one side. "What a rotten liar you are, George!" he said. "I don't think that even Runton was taken in." "I suppose it sounded a little thin," Duncombe answered coolly. "Put it this way, then, so far as you are concerned. The shriek occurred in my house. I've no explanation to offer to anybody."
"Absolutely!" she answered. "It was you at Runton?" "Yes." "Under a false name with a man who committed robbery!" She shrugged her shoulders a little wearily. "My dear Andrew!" she said, "I will admit that I have been doing all manner of incomprehensible things. I couldn't explain everything. It would take too long. What I did, I did for Guy's sake, and of my own free will.
Spencer asked. "Money?" "No, a letter," Lord Runton answered. "Von Rothe says very little, but I never saw a man so broken up. He has left for London to-night." "The matter is in the hands of the police, of course?" Spencer asked. Lord Runton shook his head. "Von Rothe took me into his room and locked the door a few minutes after we had discovered what had happened.
He might stay a day longer just to make a few inquiries about you on the spot, you know." "Get him to stay a day longer, if you can," Duncombe answered, "but don't give me away. The old chap's none too cordial as it is." "I must talk to him," Runton said. "Your Baronetcy is a thundering sight better than any of these mushroom peerages. He probably doesn't understand that sort of thing.
Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no excuse for addressing her. "I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said, closing the door after Lord Runton.
Fielding by sight, I presume?" "I have seen him in Paris once or twice," Spencer answered. "You will not think me impertinent for asking you these questions, I am sure," Lord Runton continued apologetically, "but could you describe Mr. Fielding to me?" "Certainly," Spencer answered. "He was tall and thin, wears glasses, was clean-shaven, bald, and limped a little." Lord Runton nodded.
"No, I dare say not," Lord Runton answered. "Nor would a great many other people. Every one is willing to admit that she would like our Colonies, but no one will believe that she has the courage to strike a blow for them. I will tell you what I believe, Duncombe. I believe that no Great Power has ever before been in so dangerous a position as we are in to-day." Duncombe sat up in his chair.
"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "I am not satisfied that the girl who has been staying at Runton Place, and calling herself Miss Fielding, is not in reality Phyllis Poynton." Duncombe lit a cigarette, and passed the box round. "Do you know what they are saying to-night of Mr. Fielding and his daughter?" he asked quietly. "No!"
"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow morning," he said. "There is something which I should prefer saying to you in my own house to saying here." Spencer nodded. "Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least." Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were left alone in the library.
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