"And what am I?" I demanded lightly.
"You? You are an American. The world is your oyster. You can be satisfied in any way, in Nikka's way or in mine."
It was a scant ten minutes' walk through the park to Castle Chesby. As we entered the drive, Watkins, who had driven back with the servants, came around the house from the stables and started to run toward us.
"Somebody broke in whilst we were at church, your ludship," he panted when he was within earshot.
We were all startled.
"Anything missing?" questioned Hugh sharply.
"I can't say as yet, your ludship. They seem to 'ave been only in the unoccupied parts. I fancy, sir, they 'adn't the time to go through the West Wing."
We hastened into the house after him. A rear door in the center of the castle—it was really more of a manor than a castle in style—had been forced. Desks, wardrobes, chests of drawers, closets, armories, every corner or piece of furniture that might conceal anything had been thoroughly ransacked. Drawers and their contents were still piled helter-skelter on the floor.
"Do you suppose they could have found anything?" I asked.
Watkins shook his head positively.