The peddler shook his head. “No, sir, my name is Blunt. My father was English and my mother a Malay woman. I was born out there and spent most of my time between the islands. Now I’m for getting back as soon as I can, so I’m heading for the East India Docks, where I’ll sign on. It’s too cold for me in this country. Couldn’t I spend the night in one of the outhouses, sir?”
“Well,” said Derrick thoughtfully, “I think perhaps my gardener might find a corner for you in his cottage. I’ve no objections. You can see him about it, if you like.”
The man’s dark eyes took on a sudden gleam. “That’s good of you, sir, and I won’t be a bit of trouble to any one. If there’s any work to be done, I’ll do it. Here, you’d better take this bangle now.”
He held out the yellow circlet. Derrick was about to refuse when something whispered to him to take it. Slipping it into his pocket, he was surprised at its weight.
“Why do you offer something worth a sovereign for a night’s lodging?” he queried.
The peddler sent him a curious glance. “That’s all right, sir. A few pennyweight of gold is neither here nor there in a lifetime.”
Derrick nodded. “Perhaps not—to either of us. If you turn in here I think you’ll find the gardener just on the other side of the cottage.”
The man rolled up his pack and moved along the drive toward the house. Derrick stood irresolute for a moment; then something impelled him to follow. Presently he stopped and, making no noise, slipped behind a sheltering tree. The peddler was now thirty yards ahead. At this moment Martin, who had been working among his rose-bushes, looked up and saw the stranger.
What happened next was all over in an instant. He made a swift involuntary gesture in which fear and astonishment were tensely blended. The spade slipped from his fingers, and his eyes protruded. He seemed to sway a little as he stood with an uncouth elephantine motion, and his lips trembled, but no sound came from them. Then, as Derrick emerged from behind the tree and came carelessly toward him, he made an extraordinary noise in his throat and turned again to his work. And, so far as the master of Beech Lodge could determine, the peddler had given no sign whatever.
Derrick lounged forward with a manner of complete indifference.