I touched my notebook almost affectionately, for the work was fascinating now that it had attained coherent form. Ray smoked on and said nothing for several minutes. Then he looked up at me.
"Have you a spare bedroom, Ducaine?"
"One or two," I answered. "They are not all furnished, but one at any rate is decent."
"Will you put me up for a day—perhaps two?"
"Of course," I answered, "but—"
He answered my unspoken question.
"The Duke has turned me out," he said grimly. "Who would have suspected the old man of such folly? He believes in Blenavon. I told him the plain truth, and he told me that I was a liar."
"I thought that he would be difficult to convince," I remarked.
"He has all the magnificent pig-headedness of his race," Ray answered. "Blenavon is Blenavon, and he can do no wrong. He would summon him home again, but fortunately the young man himself is no fool. He will not come. You told Lady Angela?"
"Everything."