She nodded and led the child away slowly while Dennis remarked:
“Pretty and a lady, but did ever you hear the like of such lingo? No wonder them French have a fit when they talk; ’tis from trying to understand each other.”
McCarty darted a quick glance at the harassed frown on the inspector’s face, and then replied to his companion:
“She had it straight, though. Horace has ‘been depart’ all right, and if we don’t get him back soon there’ll be a bigger howl than ever from the chief!—Isn’t that what you’re thinking, sir?”
The inspector nodded gloomily.
“I’m going to the agents in charge of these houses and get the keys.” He indicated the two closed residences east of Mrs. Bellamy’s. “Try to get a line meanwhile on who slipped food to the man hiding over there and what became of him and meet me here in an hour.”
“It’s not much he’s wanting,” Dennis remarked, as the inspector left them abruptly and strode toward the gate. “Still, if we could trace what cellar them wine bottles came from that was stacked up on the shelf in that empty house—look! The ambassador’s limousine is going away.”
The impressive dark blue car was indeed moving slowly away from the curb in front of the Parsons house and the great front door closing. They caught another fleeting glimpse of the sallow-faced manservant and then McCarty exclaimed:
“Come on! I want a few words with the butler over there anyway, and maybe the old gentleman himself, and don’t be putting in your oar, Denny, and rocking the boat; I know what I’m after.”
Dennis followed in injured silence and they mounted the steps of the stately house and rang the bell. A lengthy pause ensued. McCarty was about to ring again when the door opened suddenly and the manservant whom they had seen a moment before stood confronting them.