"Major Lyveden!" he called. "It's Plowman speaking—Plowman, of
Girdle. Can you spare me a moment?"
Still no reply was vouchsafed.
Followed by the other, Orphan advanced into the room and looked behind the door. There was no one there.
He stepped to the foot of the flight of stairs and spoke upward.
"Is Major Lyveden there?"
For a moment it seemed as if he, too, was to go unanswered. Then—
"Nao," said a voice thickly, "'e ain't. 'E's gorn aout, 'e 'as. An' won' be beck till ter-morrer."
Orphan looked sharply at Plowman. The latter shook his head, frowning, as if in denial, and lifted his voice.
"Who's that?" he snapped.
Somebody was heard to swallow. Then—