It was no desire for refreshment, but pure kindness of heart that moved Sir Giles Molehill to accept the attorney's invitation. And, as was his way in life, he did the thing handsomely. Did he see beer? Splendid. He would have a bottle of beer. Yes, and a sandwich. Excellent. Just the thing after an eighty-mile run. What excellent roads they kept in Oxfordshire! He never remembered better. And the Cotswold air was magnificent. Really, one had to spend one's days in a stuffy Court in Town to appreciate the country as it deserved.
"Yet we thrive on the atmosphere, bad as it is. Look at the time we live, Mr. Plowman. Who ever heard of a Judge dying? Yes. I really must have another sandwich. They're so excellent. And now we want you to come with us in the car and take us to Mr. Lyveden … Major Lyveden, is he? Right … D.S.O.? Good fellow. Wonder what he got that for. And then you'll come on to lunch…."
By the time they were back in the car, Mr. Plowman was upon the edge of praying for an occasion of saving his lordship's life at the expense of his own….
At the south-west corner of Gramarye the guide gave the signal, and the car was stopped. Then Plowman and Orphan alighted and passed up the wasted track. Except for a wreath of smoke curling from the chimney, the cottage might have been deserted….
"I rather expect," said Plowman, "he'll be having his dinner…."
A second later he was tapping upon the door.
For a moment there was a dead silence. Then a stealthy movement made itself heard….
The two men listened intently.
From the London road the Judge and Blithe were watching them closely.
The door remaining fast shut, Mr. Plowman knocked again.