“Look here, Stratton,” said Guest at last, “if you oppose my wishes so strongly, I shall think that you have some special reason for it.”
Stratton’s eyes contracted a little as he looked fixedly at his friend.
“I shall not oppose you, then,” he said, after moistening his lips, as if speaking was an effort. “Have the place examined.”
“I will,” cried Guest eagerly. “Come on with me to the police-station, and let’s give information.”
Stratton shrank back in his seat.
“No, no. Speak to the people at the lodge; the man can open the door.”
“No; I am not going to have the matter spread abroad. And I do not accept the responsibility. No hesitation now; come on.”
Stratton was so weakened by ill health and nervous shock that, in spite of himself, he felt compelled to yield, and ten minutes later they were in the cold, formal station, where he felt as if in a dream, held there against his will, and listening while Guest told the inspector on duty his suspicions as if they were those of his neighbour Stratton, who, of course, was not sure, only uneasy, and desirous of quietly learning whether, by any possibility, there was something wrong.
“We’ll soon see to that, sir,” said the inspector quietly, and sending a message by a constable, a sergeant was called into the office, the matter explained to him, and, after a sharp glance at the two strangers, he proposed to call and get Johnson to come with them, as he would be home from work and they could pick him up on the way.
The inspector expressed his approval, and then said: