"Sorry to disturb you, but there has been a railway accident," a man said in tones that struck Beaumanoir as vaguely familiar. "I'm tired of waiting about at the side of the line. Can you give me shelter for the night?"
"If you'll please to walk in, sir, I'll see what can be done," came the reply of the hospitable keeper. "I've got one of the passengers in here already."
The next moment there appeared in the doorway of the kitchen the tall man who had hectored the guard at Elstree station and who had afterwards been joined by the spy, Marker, at Radlett. Whatever his purpose, he was plainly not disposed to lay aside his air of self-importance as yet. He glanced superciliously at Beaumanoir, and promptly appropriated the chair which the latter had risen from at the first alarm. Loyal to his own county, this was more than Mayne could stand; he hastened to effect a one-sided introduction.
"Beg pardon, sir, but you've taken the Duke's chair," he said. "This gentleman is his Grace the Duke of Beaumanoir."
The newcomer rose with alacrity. "Sorry, I'm sure," he said, taking another seat. "We are companions in misfortune, Duke, if, as I understand, you were traveling in that wretched 8.45 from St. Pancras."
Beaumanoir's sense of humor, ever present, but of late repressed by stress of circumstances, broke out at the efforts of this man, who spoke with a pronounced American accent, and who, he was persuaded, was there with murderous intent, to sustain the rôle of an English gentleman. He had not forgotten that other and more furtive footstep under the window, but he could not resist the sport of leading this rascal on. The mood had seized him to avoid being killed if he could; but, if that were not possible, to extract all available fun out of the process. And it might serve either of these contingencies to lead his adversary into the belief that he was not being imposed on by all this specious posing.
"Yes, I was in the 8.45," he replied, looking the other squarely in the face. "You joined it at Elstree, I think. I noticed you because a man who was found under the seat of my compartment got into yours at Radlett, and I saw you leaving the train with him after the accident."
For the fraction of a second the man failed to control the answering defiance of his eyes, but he got a grip of himself soon enough to prevent a premature explosion. "Really?" he said, with affected carelessness. "He was under the seat, eh? Funny sort of person to be traveling first-class; but, of course, you will understand that I am not acquainted with him."
Beaumanoir made no comment. He had got what he wanted. That sudden tell-tale gleam of menace had discounted the subsequent disclaimer, and he knew that this man had been no chance fellow-passenger with Marker, the spy. What was more, the man knew that he knew it, and Beaumanoir shrewdly guessed that the effort of control was intended to deceive not him but the keeper. The rascal was biding his time till he had learned what dispositions were to be made for the night, when doubtless he would shape his actions accordingly; and, in the meanwhile, it was necessary to his purpose that Sir Claude Asprey's honest old retainer should regard him as an innocent guest.
Again that persistent reliance on the Duke's impotence to speak up and boldly claim protection. All through the hot pursuit that leaguered him so closely this was the bitterest drop in Beaumanoir's cup, for it was he himself who had placed the gag in his own mouth, he himself who had forged the fetters that kept him from running to Scotland Yard with an exposure of the whole conspiracy. And it is galling to be hampered by a past lapse from virtue when you have abandoned evil courses and are like to lose your life for doing so.