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Updated: May 7, 2025
At the bottom of the staircase he was stopped by Tufnell, who had evidently been waiting for him to descend. The usually imperturbable dignity of the butler was for once ruffled, and he looked slightly flushed and dishevelled. "I have been down to the village looking for you," he said, in a querulous tone. The majesty of the law had not vested Caldew with any dignity in the old butler's eyes.
Phil nodded, and returned to his letters. Miss Heredith left the room, and proceeded along the corridor to the big dining-room. An elderly man servant, grey and clean-shaven, permitted a faint deferential smile to appear on his features as she entered. "Is everything quite right, Tufnell?" she asked.
Tufnell was not aware that in the former village boy who had become a London detective he was in the presence of a young man of soaring ambition. Caldew had gone to London fifteen years before with the idea of bettering himself.
I got to the hall without meeting anyone, and then I knew that I was safe. But just as I turned into the passage leading to my mother's rooms I heard the dining-room door open. I looked back and saw Tufnell come out and go upstairs, but he did not see me. Then I reached my mother's rooms." She was silent so long that Merrington thought she had finished her story.
"How do you know my name?" she asked. "What, Alice! what, Miss Tufnell! don't you remember Stephen Battiscombe!" exclaimed the stranger. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed, putting out her hand and gazing at his face. "I knew you were not lost; I always said so. And Roger, my dear brother Roger, why has he not come with you? Where is he?" she asked in an anxious tone.
The old servant advanced tremblingly into the room, vainly endeavouring to compose his horror-stricken face into a semblance of the impassive mask of the well-trained English servant. "Go downstairs and get me some hot water," said Musard quietly. "Look sharp and bring it yourself. I do not want any maidservants here to go into hysterics." Tufnell hastened away.
I had the skin of this lamb dressed and sent home as a curiosity." See note 1. "You appear to have pretty rough times of it then, on the whole," said Miles. "I never counted on smooth times," returned Tufnell; "besides, being used to roughing it, I am always glad to do so in a good cause. My palace, as you see, is not a bad one, though small.
It was one of those journeys on which a man perpetually feels that now at last he must have come to the end of the universe, and then finds he has only come to the beginning of Tufnell Park. London died away in draggled taverns and dreary scrubs, and then was unaccountably born again in blazing high streets and blatant hotels.
When they reached the foot of the staircase, Colwyn, with an explanatory glance at his soiled hands and dusty clothes, promised to join the luncheon party in a few minutes. He went to his own room for a hasty toilet, and when he descended a few minutes later he again saw Tufnell in the hall.
Yes, Miss, it's all ready!" shouted the speaker, in reply to a soft female voice that came down the wide staircase, as it were, over the heads of the turbulent crowd. In a moment he disappeared, and Tufnell stood, as if by magic, in his place.
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