“What is your name?”
“Martin, sir, John Martin.” The voice was deep and husky.
“Perkins tells me you were in Mr. Millicent’s service.”
“Yes, sir, for some years after his last trip to the East.”
“Did you come from the East with him?”
“No, sir, I—I was engaged here at Beech Lodge.”
“Several years service, yet you left three days after your employer died?”
Martin jerked up his head. “Yes, sir; that’s it.”
“How did you happen to go so quickly? Were you discharged by Mrs. Millicent?”
A dull flush rose in the tanned face. “You might as well ask how my master happened to die three days before I left, sir. Mrs. Millicent was giving up Beech Lodge and didn’t want a gardener. There was no other job in sight about here, and I couldn’t afford to hang on in the village.”