"Monsieur de Polignac."
"Monsieur is not within," said the same voice in English, the speaker having detected the squire's nationality by his accent.
"Where is he?"
"Pardon, Monsieur, I am not sure where my master is at this moment; but if Monsieur will leave a message——"
Something in the man's manner assured Mr. Berkeley that he was lying.
"Look 'ee, my man," he said sternly, "I counsel you to bethink yourself. I will walk for five minutes, in the rain; you will have time to acquaint your master that an English gentleman whose name is probably unknown to him desires to see him on a very urgent matter—in the interest, mark you, of himself. An urgent matter, mark you. In five minutes I will return."
On returning Mr. Berkeley was instantly admitted. The manservant, cowering beneath his stern look, led him meekly to a room off the hall, where he found Polignac in long cloak and jack-boots, evidently on the point of departing on a journey. The squire gave him a keen glance, and was not surprised to find that it was the same man whom he had met at the door of Aglionby's attic some months before.
"Monsieur de Polignac?" he said.
"That is my name, Monsieur."
"My name is Berkeley. I met you at Aglionby's. It is for him I come. I desire a word with you."