“Who are they?”
“They won’t give their names, sir, and I never saw them before.”
Roland frowned. “Suppose I must send the fellows about their business. Back in a minute, Sophie.”
It may be that an ugly misgiving shot through his mind at that moment, but if so he showed no sign of it. As Jervis said afterwards, with awe and admiration in his voice: “Master was out-and-out the very coolest party he’d ever seen.”
The strangers were standing in the hall. With astonishment he recognised the men who had accosted him at Durnley Castle the day before.
“Your name is Roland Dorrien, I believe, sir?” began one of them, before he had time to ask a question.
“It is. Kindly walk in here and state your business with me.”
He held open the study door. The others, with a moment’s hesitation, accompanied him within. Then they turned.
“I have a most unpleasant duty to perform, sir,” said the spokesman of the pair.
“And that?” said Roland coolly, though conscious that his face was becoming white.