“Did they send up their names?” he said, recovering himself.
“No, sir, only said would you be kind enough to step down, sir, without disturbing my mistress. It was something particular.”
“Is anything wrong, John?” said Gertrude earnestly.
“Wrong? No, my dear, I hope not. Some bit of business: people for a subscription or something. I shall be back directly. Go on playing, or we shall wake your father.”
She nodded and smiled as she resumed her seat at the piano; and as Huish went quietly out of the room, the sad strain of olden days his wife was playing seemed to grow more and more mournful when the notes were muffled by the closed door.
“Where are the gentlemen, Jane?” he said quietly.
“In the dining-room, sir,” said the girl, with a strange look; and as he entered she stood waiting on the mat.
One of the gas-burners was alight, and Huish started as, on entering the room, he found himself face to face with a dark, stern-looking man, and a policeman, who immediately placed his back against the door.
“Is anything the matter?” said Huish quickly.
“Well, yes, a little,” said the stern, dark man. “Mr Huish—John Huish?”