Forsyth nodded, and the General went away with Sybil, who conducted him up the grand staircase and left him at the door of the Duke's room. It was characteristic of the man that, having heard all there was to hear of her proceedings from his nephew, he forbore to waste words on what had occurred, but dismissed her with an injunction.
"Now run away and help Alec, but don't let the apple-woman know that those sharp eyes are observing her," he said, unbending so far as to give her a playful push.
His knock and mention of his name was followed by the sound of footsteps as the occupant of the room remembered that he had turned the key and hastened to admit the visitor. Beaumanoir was fully dressed, and had just finished breakfast.
"Don't think me a coward for locking the door, General," he said, as he shook hands. "This is a pretty bad gang that I am dodging."
The General's comment was to turn and re-lock the door himself, after a critical glance at the sawn panel. "I have spent my life in breaking up bad gangs," he said, when he had taken the chair indicated. "I am a bit rusty with disuse, but I should very much like to try conclusions with this one. From what I hear, they must be worthy of anyone's steel."
Beaumanoir indulged in a careworn smile.
"Three attempts in forty-eight hours speaks to their zeal, at any rate," he replied. "But seriously, General, you start badly handicapped," he went on. "I don't even know that I want them broken up, as you call it, for there must be no publicity. I can give you no clues nor answer any questions. All I ask of your great experience is how to thwart a determined hankering after my poor life—a hankering which may possibly cease if I survive for another week."
"You positively decline to give me any assistance?"
"Positively; the honor of my house forbids it."
The General tried to look pensive—a difficult matter to a gentleman of iron visage and bushy eyebrows.