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Updated: June 13, 2025
The girl was already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they started the wagonette drew up. "We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport." "Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car looks like going."
"I heard nothing," he answered. "What can one hear? The wind is strong to drown even our voices." "And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road which led from the highway to Runton Place. Duncombe watched them for a moment. "They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared.
Duncombe rose to his feet in surprise. For the moment a sudden fear drew the color from his cheeks. He looked apprehensively towards his unexpected visitor. Lord Runton, however, showed no signs of any great discomposure. He was wearing his ordinary dinner clothes, and in reply to Duncombe's first question assured him that he had dined.
"I thought that you might be interested to know, Miss Fielding, that you will meet the gentleman with the same name as your friend this evening. Lord Runton has been good enough to ask him to come up and dine." She nodded gayly. "What a crowd of sentimental memories his coming will evoke!" she declared. "Be nice to me, won't you, and help me dispel them?"
"I won't keep you now. I know what the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!" "Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!" The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew was waiting for him impatiently by the gate. "Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?" The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration upon his forehead.
"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone. She raised her eyebrows. "Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't you? I want to speak to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs." Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet of him, smoking a cigarette.
That, however, was quite in accord with our ideas of an American business man, and didn't seem to us in the least remarkable." "The telegrams were delivered through a neighboring office?" Spencer asked quietly. "Yes," Lord Runton answered, "but they were all in code.
The door of the omnibus was opened as Duncombe stepped over the low wall into the road. A tall man in a long light Inverness descended. "Hullo, Duncombe!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand; "I was coming in to see you for a moment." "Good man!" Duncombe answered. "Bring your friends, won't you?" He held open the gate hospitably, but Lord Runton shook his head.
"I will try a glass of your port, if I may, George," he declared. "Thanks!" The butler had wheeled a chair up to the table for him, and left the room. Lord Runton filled his glass and sent the decanter round. Then he turned towards Spencer, to whom he had just been introduced. "Mr. Spencer," he said, "my visit to-night is mainly to you.
"Of course not," Lord Runton continued, "but don't you think it possible that without your knowledge, of course she may be hidden somewhere about here? That cry was not like the cry of a housemaid. Let us have the whole place searched." Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. "As you will," he answered. "I am certain, however, that it will be useless. There is no place here where any one could hide."
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