Jefferson shrugged his shoulders, frowning. “It seems damned nonsense to me,” he said bluntly.
“Look here,” Roger remarked suddenly, “you mustn’t let this thing get on your nerves, you know. Come and take a turn in the garden with me.”
He linked his arm through the other’s and, observing his obvious hesitation, drew him towards the open windows. “Do you all the good in the world,” he persisted.
Jefferson allowed himself to be persuaded.
For some minutes the two strolled up and down the lawn, and Roger took some care to keep the conversation on indifferent topics. But in spite of all his efforts, Jefferson kept looking at his watch, and it was clear that he was counting the minutes before the police might be expected. What Roger, watch how he might, was unable to discover was whether his companion was eager for their arrival or the reverse. The only thing he knew for certain was that this imperturbable man was, for some reason or other, very badly rattled. It might be the simple fact of his employer’s unseemly end which had caused this unwonted state of affairs, Roger thought; for certainly Jefferson and old Stanworth had been a very long time together. On the other hand, it might not. And if this was not the reason, what was?
When they had made the circuit of the rose garden three times, Jefferson halted suddenly.
“The police should be here at any minute now,” he said abruptly. “I’m going to walk down towards the lodge to meet them. I’ll call you when we want you.”
Anything more obvious in the way of a congé could hardly be imagined. Roger accepted it with the best grace he could.
“Very well,” he nodded. “I’ll be somewhere out here.”
Jefferson disappeared rapidly down the drive and Roger was left to continue his walk alone. But he had no intention of being bored. There was, he felt, quite a lot of thinking that he would rather like to do; and the chance of a few minutes’ solitude was not unwelcome. He paced slowly back to the lawn again, his pipe in full blast, and reeking clouds trailing lazily behind him.