“Why did you not send for his friends? Why has he not received proper medical treatment?”
“I have valid reasons for my actions, however neglectful they may seem to you. Sir Harold has been in good hands,” Hamilton said. “Will you follow me, sir?”
“Wait!” the colonel commanded. “I have not quite done with you, Mr. Hamilton. Never let it be said that I condemn a man unheard, and if you are as innocent as you strive to appear, you will not be afraid to answer one or two questions which, to save time, I will put to you in categorical order. As a man of sense, it must at once be apparent to you that you are guilty of a serious misdemeanor in the eyes of the law for retaining a titled and wealthy man without making a single effort to restore him to his friends. To add to this, you have permitted him to regain bodily health at the expense of his mind, while proper medical treatment would doubtless have resulted in sound reason also. To my thinking, this constitutes in itself a most serious offense, as the natural conclusions are that you have had but one end in view—extortion!”
Mr. Hamilton flushed angrily and knitted his brows.
“Pray go on with your questions,” he said. “I am prepared to answer.”
“Good,” the colonel replied. “Now, sir, when and where did you first make the acquaintance of Sir Harold Annesley?”
“Upon the very day that he disappeared. I am an itinerant musician when money runs short, though this has been my permanent home for fifteen years. I and my daughter, by pure accident, turned into Annesley Park, and, after hearing my child sing, Sir Harold was very liberal with his money. By the same train that returned to Tenterden, Sir Harold evidently intended to go to London, but met with an accident, which will never be properly explained except by himself, just outside the Tenterden railway station. As is often the case, there was no porter in attendance, for the train had to be stopped by signal for me and Theresa—my daughter—to alight; and it was not until the train had steamed away that I saw the figure of a man lying at the mouth of the tunnel. I went to his assistance, and, much against my will, was forced to bring him here lest he should die.”
The Colonel smiled unpleasantly.
“Who was your confederate? You do not expect me to believe that an aged man—a feeble man—could possibly convey the insensible body of a big fellow like Sir Harold Annesley for upward of a mile over an uneven road!”
So saying, Greyson fixed upon Hamilton his keen eyes.