“He’s done it, I bet, all the same,” returned Innes, “I’ll lay you what you like. There was something on between them.”
“What do you mean?” Parkes asked sharply.
“Why, this. I didn’t tell you what I heard—it wasn’t no business of mine—but I’ll tell you now. You remember Mr. Austin dining here evening? The boss, as you know, had the hump all day, but Mr. Austin when he came first was as sweet as you please. After dinner they went to the library. Well, sir, I was passing the door about or maybe later, and I heard their voices inside. I judged they were having a bit of a row. I heard Mr. Austin shouting, ‘My God, sir, she isn’t!’ and then I heard the mumble of Sir William’s voice, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Well, that was all of that. Then about , when Mr. Austin was leaving, I was in the hall, and got him his coat, and he was just sort of green about the gills, as if he had been laid out in the ring. He’s always pleasant enough, but that night he took his coat and hat as if I was a blooming hatstand, and out to the car without a word, and a look on his face as if he’d seen death. And Sir William hasn’t been the same since either. Oh yes! I guess they’ve had some sort of a dust up.”
Parkes whistled.
“About the girl?” he said, with a sharp glance.
“So I thought. Miss Lois Drew may be a very nice young lady, and I don’t say she’s not, but she’s hardly the kind of daughter-in-law the old man would be looking out for.”
“It’s a fact, Innes. You’re right. Now if it had been my Lady Evelyn, things would have been different.”
“You bet,” said the valet.
The men’s allusion was to a subject of common gossip in Halford. Austin Ponson was universally believed to be in love with the daughter of the local bookseller. And as universally, it was assumed that such a match would have the determined opposition of Sir William.
“I think we might send in to Mr. Austin’s, and find out,” went on Parkes after a pause. “If he’s there no harm’s done, and if not, why, it might be just as well to tell Mr. Austin.”
“Well, I’ll go in and see him if you think so.”
“I would be glad. Hughes can run you in in the small car.”
Some twenty minutes later Innes rang at the door of a pleasant looking little villa on the outskirts of Halford.
“Is Mr. Austin about yet, Mrs. Currie?” he asked, as an elderly woman, with a kindly, dependable face, answered.
“He’s not down yet, Mr. Innes. Will you come in?”
The valet answered her question with another.
“Sir William didn’t call last night, I suppose?”
“Sir William? No, Mr. Innes, I haven’t seen Sir William for over a month.”
“Well, I’ll come in, thank you, and when Mr. Austin’s ready I’d like to see him.”
“I’ll tell him you’re waiting.”
When some twenty minutes later Austin Ponson came into the room, Innes looked at him in some surprise. As a rule Austin was a man of easy and leisurely manners, suave, polished, and unhurried. He had an air of comfortable and good-humoured contentment, that made him a pleasant and soothing companion. But this morning he was strangely different. His face was pale, and dark circles below his eyes pointed to his having passed a sleepless night. His manner was nervous, and Innes noticed his hand shaking. When he spoke it was abruptly and as if he were upset.
“Good morning, Innes. You wanted to see me?”
“Sorry for troubling you so early, sir, but Mr. Parkes sent me in with a message.”
“Yes?”
“It was to ask if you knew anything of Sir William, sir. He went out late last night without saying anything about it, and he has not turned up since, and Mr. Parkes was a little anxious about him in case he might have met with an accident.”
A look almost of fear appeared in the other’s eyes.
“And how should I know anything about him?” he answered quickly, and Innes noticed that his lips were dry. “He did not come here. Have you tried at Mr. Hawksworth’s or Lord Eastmere’s? He has dropped in to see them often in the evening, hasn’t he?”
“That is so, sir, but we thought we had better consult you before raising an alarm. As you say, sir, Sir William has often gone over to these places in the evening, but never without saying he would be late, and he never stopped all night.”
“Oh well, I expect he’s done it this time. But you had better go round and see. Stay, I’ll go with you myself. Wait a few minutes while I get some breakfast.”
Twenty minutes later they were on the road. They called at the two houses mentioned, but at neither had anything been heard of Sir William. It was nearly when they reached Luce Manor. Parkes hurried to meet them.
“Any news, Parkes?” asked Austin as he entered the house. He had recovered his composure, and seemed more at ease.
“No, sir,” replied the butler, “but we’ve made a discovery—just before you came.”
Again the flash of something like fear showed in the other’s eyes. He did not speak, and Parkes went on:
“About ten minutes ago, sir, Smith, the under-gardener, who is boatman also, came up here asking for Sir William. I saw him, and he said he had just discovered that one of the boats was missing—stolen, he said. I kept him, sir, in case if you came back with Innes you might like to speak to him.”
Austin Ponson’s face paled as if this news was a shock.
“Good Heavens! Parkes,” he stammered, “you don’t mean to suggest—”
“I thought, sir,” resumed the butler smoothly, “that maybe Sir William had taken a sudden notion to go over and see
