“You’re a good fellow, Holmes,” he said. “I don’t like the look of things myself, and that’s a fact. I may pop off, if I see my way clear. If I don’t—well, you won’t have any disagreeable duties to perform at the Castle. I’ll promise you that.”
The inspector put in his appearance and the two men took their leave. Gregory remained for a few minutes motionless upon the broad semicircle of white stone stretching out from the front door, gazing after the receding car. Presently his father moved up to his side.
“Holmes seems to have a bee in his bonnet, Gregory,” he ventured tentatively.
Gregory nodded.
“He’s a good fellow,” he declared. “It cost him something to do it, I know, but he’s given me the office. Advised me to clear out within the next twenty-four hours. It’s that fellow Johnson.”
“Well, if you have made up your mind to go,” Sir Bertram said, “why not? They can’t do anything in a desperate hurry, and you’ll get a run for your money at least out there.”
Gregory seemed for a moment puzzled, then distressed. He turned and looked at his father. Sir Bertram’s expression, however, was inscrutable. Finally he swung on his heel.
“At any rate,” he decided, “I’ll finish my packing.”
CHAPTER XII
“Things do be happening round about here, for sure,” Mr. Pank remarked, as he moved down the whisky bottle from its shelf. “What it all may lead to is more than a body can say, but I don’t like the look of it, Mr. Craske.”