This last was uttered in a tone that the girl considered unnecessarily loud. Having seen her charge left unmolested, she went off, and consulted the cook on the question of luncheon.
Gray and his friends had no intention of being outwitted this time, and they kept a watchful eye on the room where George sat, one of their number having first despatched a telegram to "Caroli, London."
With the prospect of lively proceedings before him, the master of Fairbrothers' kept to his arm-chair by the fire, swearing softly to himself as he vainly endeavoured to think out a way of escape. With good fortune, and the waitress's help, he might manage to keep even with his opponents until Cattermole came, but they would not lose sight of him afterwards, he was sure of that.
The luncheon hour passed without further trouble, but no new idea had presented itself. Experience had taught Gray and his colleagues to exercise the greatest vigilance with so slippery a customer as their old employer, and they were careful to do so.
George looked round the old-fashioned room in which he sat, and deplored the fact that it lacked those useful secret exits so convenient in old days to a man in a tight corner. Such an aid would have enabled him to vanish cleverly. There was not even a panel or a family picture to swing generously forward and disclose a yawning hole.
A fanlight of modern construction gaped in one corner, but it was doubtful if a grown man could have squeezed himself through this. It looked into a small parlour, where the landlord's buxom wife sat and superintended the affairs of the household.
Despairing of escape in that direction, George settled himself down in gloomy meditation, evolving all kinds of schemes for outwitting his wily enemies, every one of which proved unworkable.
His train of thought was in due course interrupted by the sound of voices from the next room. Somebody was in conference with the landlady, and the few words that fell distinctly upon the ears of George Early drove any further cogitation for the moment clean out of his head. He gave his whole attention to the conversation. One of the speakers was Gray.
"The fact is," George heard that gentleman say, "he isn't quite right—a bit touched in the upper story. You know what I mean. We didn't want to mention it, but I thought it best to let you know the facts."
"Deary me, now," said the landlady in a hushed voice; "to think o' that. Well, I can sympathize, for, believe me, nobody knows better—and the gentleman that brought him didn't mention a word——"