Mr. Fentolin remained upon the terrace long after the departure of his guests. He had found a sunny corner out of the wind, and he sat there with a telescope by his side and a budget of newspapers upon his knee. On some pretext or another he had detained all the others of the household so that they formed a little court around him.
Even Hamel, who had said something about a walk, had been induced to stop by an appealing glance from Esther. Mr. Fentolin was in one of his most loquacious moods. For some reason or other, the visit of the Saxthorpes seemed to have excited him. He talked continually, with the briefest pauses. Every now and then he gazed steadily across the marshes through his telescope.
"Lord Saxthorpe," he remarked, "has, I must confess, greatly excited my curiosity as to the identity of our visitor. Such a harmless-looking person, he seems, to be causing such a commotion.
Gerald, don't you feel your responsibility in the matter?"
"Yes, sir, I do!" Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. "I feel my responsibility deeply."
Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched Hamel on the shoulder.
"My young friend," he said, "your eyes are better than mine. You see the road there? Look along it, between the white posts, as far as you can. What do you make of that black speck?"
Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little tripod stand.
"It looks like a horse and trap," he announced. "Good!" Mr.
Fentolin declared. "It seemed so to me, but I was not sure. My eyes are weak this afternoon. How many people are in the trap?"
"Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man is driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way."
Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly.
His master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed.
"Let me make use of your eyes once more," Mr. Fentolin begged.
"About these two men in the trap, Mr. Hamel. Is one of them, by any chance, wearing a uniform?"
"They both are," Hamel replied. "The man who is driving is wearing a peaked hat. He looks like a police inspector. The man by his side is an ordinary policeman."
Mr. Fentolin sighed gently.
"It is very interesting," he said. "Let us hope that we shall not see an arrest under my roof. I should feel it a reflection upon my hospitality. I trust, I sincerely trust, that this visit does not bode any harm to Mr. John P. Dunster."
Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace.
Mr. Fentolin, however, called him back.
"Gerald," he advised, "better not go away. The inspector may desire to ask you questions. You will have nothing to conceal. It was a natural and delightful impulse of yours to bring the man who had befriended you, and who was your companion in that disaster, straight to your own home for treatment and care. It was an admirable impulse, my boy. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Shall I tell him, too -" Gerald began.
"Be careful, Gerald."
Mr. Fentolin's words seemed to be charged with a swift, rapier-like note. The boy broke off in his speech. He looked at Hamel and was silent.
"Dear me," Mrs. Fentolin mumured, "I am sure there is no need for us to talk about this poor man as though anybody had done anything wrong in having him here. This, I suppose, must be the Inspector Yardley whom Lord Saxthorpe spoke of."
"A very intelligent-looking officer, I am sure," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Gerald, go and meet him, if you please. I should like to speak to him out here."
The dog-cart had drawn up at the front door, and the inspector had already alighted. Gerald intervened as he was in the act of questioning the butler.
"Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector," he said, "if you will come this way."
The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly.
Mr. Fentolin held out his hand.
"You got my telephone message, inspector?" he asked.
"We have not received any message that I know of, sir," the inspector replied. "I have come over here in accordance with instructions received from headquarters - in fact from Scotland Yard."
"Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You've come over, I presume, to make enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?"
"That is the name of the gentleman, sir."
"I only understood to-day from my friena Lord Saxthorpe," Mr.
Fentolin continued, "that Mr. Dunster was being enquired about as though he had disappeared. My nephew brought him here after the railway accident at Wymondham, since when he has been under the care of my own physician. I trust that you have nothing serious against him?"
"My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, "is to see the gentleman in question."
"By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. "Gerald, will you take the inspector up to Mr. Dunster's rooms? Or stop, I will go myself."
Mr. Fentolin started his chair and beckoned the inspector to follow him. Meekins, who was waiting inside the hall, escorted them by means of the lift to the second floor. They made their way to Mr.
Dunster's room. Mr. Fentolin knocked softly at the door. It was opened by the nurse.
"How is the patient?" Mr. Fentolin enquired.
Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room.
"Still unconscious," he reported. "Otherwise, the symptoms are favourable. He is quite unfit," the doctor added, looking steadily at the inspector, "to be removed or questioned."
"There is no idea of anything of the sort," Mr. Fentolin explained.
"It is Inspector Yardley's duty to satisfy himself that Mr. Dunster is here. It is necessary for the inspector to see your patient, so that he can make his report at headquarters."
Doctor Sarson bowed.
"That is quite simple, sir," he said. "Please step in."
They all entered the room, which was large and handsomely furnished.
Through the open windows came a gentle current of fresh air. Mr.
Dunster lay in the midst of all the luxury of fine linen sheets and embroidered pillow-cases. The inspector looked at him stolidly.
"Is he asleep?" he asked.
