“Mr. Lomax, my lord, is anxious to see you in the library as soon as you return.”
By this delicate method Tredwell conveyed that Lord Caterham had not yet returned unless he chose to say so.
Lord Caterham sighed, and then rose.
“I suppose it will have to be done sooner or later. In the library, you say?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Sighing again, Lord Caterham crossed the wide spaces of his ancestral home, and reached the library door. The door was locked. As he rattled the handle, it was unlocked from inside, opened a little way, and the face of George Lomax appeared, peering out suspiciously.
His face changed when he saw who it was.
“Ah, Caterham, come in. We were just wondering what had become of you.”
Murmuring something vague about duties on the estate, repairs for tenants, Lord Caterham sidled in apologetically. There were two other men in the room. One was Colonel Melrose, the Chief Constable. The other was a squarely built middle-aged man with a face so singularly devoid of expression as to be quite remarkable.
“Superintendent Battle arrived half an hour ago,” explained George. “He has been round with Inspector Badgworthy, and seen Dr. Cartwright. He now wants a few facts from us.”