The Home Secretary waved him aside. The family was concerned.
"What have you got against—or about—Lord Galton? Say what you have to say, and let's have it over."
"What I've got to say," said the Boy, "is what is but my plain duty to say. I names no names. I asks no questions and I don't get told no lies!"
"Upon my word!" cried his master angrily, almost moved to action. The boy Ethelbert at the end of so long a tension gave a loud cry of terror and suddenly whipped round and fled through the open door.
They were disconcerted.
"Well, Mr. Collop," said Mr. de Bohun on the child's vanishing, "that's another complication. It's Lord Galton now!" and he sank into a chair. Things were becoming too much for him.
"Don't you believe 'im," said Mr. Collop firmly. "What I say is, no cross scents. What do 'ounds do when they find a cross scent?"
Mr. de Bohun would have been only too happy to tell him, but he had never hunted.
"Why, they miss the right one. That's wot they do. And do they catch the fox? No. A thousand times, no! Now," said he, again tapping that palm of his with that forefinger of his. "You mark! Forget all about Lord Galton. It's servant's romancing. I told you I already 'ad one clue. And 'ere I've gone and got another clue! An' they both fit in.... And now," he added peculiarly, gazing out of the window as though he would admire the wintry morning with its clear scintillating skies, "I'd have you note another clue. Look there," he said—and with the gesture of Hannibal pointing out the plains of Italy, Mr. Collop extended his left arm and directed his somewhat too thick forefinger towards the avenue and the sheets of snow on either side of the great gravel walk. "What have we there?" he said.
De Bohun, weary after his sleepless night, had to get up again from his chair and look where he was bidden. "I ... I don't see anything, Mr. Collop," he said.