“Hullo!” cried Orsden: “Bickerdike. What’s he doing here?”
“I think I know,” said the Baron. He went over to the elaborately unconscious gentleman—who, pretending to see him for the first time, glanced up with a start and an expression of surprise which would not have deceived a town-idiot—and accosted him genially:—
“Looking for anything, Mr. Bickerdike?”
“Just the chance of a late raspberry the birds may have left,” was the answer.
“O! I wonder if I can provide any fruit as much to your taste. You haven’t a half-hour to spare, I suppose?”
Mr. Bickerdike came promptly out from among the canes.
“Certainly,” he said. “I am quite at your service. What is it?”
“Only that I am under promise to Sir Francis to unfold for his delectation the story of a certain mystery, and the steps by which I came to arrive at its elucidation. It occurs to me—but, of course, if it would bore you——”
“Not at all. I am all eagerness to hear.”
“Well, it occurs to me that you have a leading title to the information, if you care to claim it, since it was in your company that I found my first clue to the riddle.”