Jernyngham pulled himself together.
“I had no wish to be offensive, though I meant what I said. Suppose this fellow goes off again—for good—as soon as he has sold his wheat?”
“That will have to be guarded against. He will be watched; if he leaves his farm, he will be followed.”
“He gave you the slip neatly on a previous occasion.”
“Quite true,” said the officer. “Our men are not infallible. I think I can promise that it will not happen again.” Then he rose. “I have some business waiting and you must excuse me. I can assure you that nothing which promises to throw any light upon the matter will be neglected.”
He opened the door and politely but firmly bowed out his visitor. Then he called Curtis, who was waiting below.
“I dare say you can guess Mr. Jernyngham’s errand,” he said. “Unless we can hit on the truth before long, you’ll have that gentleman in the guard-room.”
Curtis looked astonished and his superior smiled compassionately.
“I mean as a sufferer from mental derangement. Don’t be communicative, and confine yourself to reassuring generalities, if you come across him. His mind’s morbidly fixed on punishing Prescott. I don’t think he can be convinced that the man is innocent.”
“I can’t help meeting him, sir. He spends his time following me about. In a way, one can’t blame him for what he thinks.”